


Vincent Valentine Gets a Girlfriend

by katiekatartist



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, OC has health issues, Post-Canon, Romance, Some angst, Vincent deserves love, one year after dirge of cerberus, smut???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:54:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiekatartist/pseuds/katiekatartist
Summary: Before the events of "Dirge of Cerberus", Vincent Valentine is traveling around the planet to help those in need. During his stop in Costa del Sol, he meets a unique local with a passion for drawing. When he comes back to visit her a year later, will things be the same between them? What will happen as they both grow closer and reveal their secrets?
Relationships: Vincent Valentine/Original Character(s), Vincent Valentine/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 30





	1. Doodles & Daydreams

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I've never really posted my writing before, but I'm feeling inspired to write this particular story with the FFVII remake (part one) coming out soon. Strap yourself in and get ready for a lot of fluff as I gush about how much I love Vincent Valentine. This story is extremely OC heavy (it follows her POV most of the time), and I'm frankly gonna do whatever I want as I go, haha. I hope you enjoy this journey!

There was something so satisfying to Leya about sitting at a desk all day and staring out into the sea of tourists hustling towards the beach and jotting down sketches of the most intriguing people she could find. Sure, Leya still did her job like the role-model employee she was — she prided herself on not letting her art hobby distract her too much — but if a guest came to the Tourist Information Center with a question about where to find the local inn or the best restaurant in Costa del Sol, she was more than ready to give them service with a smile. But, during her down time, Leya’s poison of choice was to doodle the strangers that passed by her stall.

It was a tricky game to play because very few people stood still long enough for her to create a refined drawing. Instead, she hastily had to sketch out what she was seeing as her muse power-walked down the street with passion and purpose in each step. Most of the tourists were too excited about attending the beach to stop and smell the roses while still in town. 

Either way, Leya enjoyed her little pastime. It helped her withstand the ungodly amount of boring hours she spent behind her tiny desk. If she didn’t have her pencil and sketchbook, she would have gone brain dead while on the clock years ago. The thought made Leya stop her current doodle and chuckle to herself.

_ Years _ .

She had been working this job for  _ years _ now. Ever since her father moved to Midgar when she was about 16, she had gotten this desk job at the Tourist Center to give herself her own source of income. Doing some quick math in a blank section of her current sketchbook page, Leya concluded that she had been working here for 8 years. For any other job, 8 years would have meant at least one sort of major promotion, but it didn’t work that way here. There weren’t any jobs to promote to. The Tourist Center only had one manager who made the shift schedule and kept the business running and a few employees who worked the desk like Leya. At least she got a little raise every now and then. Sure, it wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but every last gil helped.

Leya looked back out into the crowd of people rushing past. There were mostly children and young adults like herself outside at this time. School was out for the summer, so natives to Costa del Sol and tourists alike flocked to the beach to relax and enjoy their freedom while they had it. Leya wished she could sprint down to the shoreline herself to enjoy the warm rays of sunshine and the crispness of the beachy air. Unfortunately, the same sun that made Summer days bright and cheery also made her “office” nearly unbearable this time of year — and she was stuck inside her stuffy hole in the wall for the next few hours. Her freedom would simply have to wait.

She began to scan the crowd, looking for someone to help cure her boredom. She caught sight of a young woman, probably in her early 30s, with vibrant, curly red hair. The wild locks looked like fire blazing in the heat of the day, bouncing behind her as she walked away. Leya sometimes wished her own blonde hair looked like that. Instead of long and straight, it could be short, curly, and bouncy. It seemed like so much more fun that way.

Her attention refocusing on the woman, Leya noticed that she was talking to a young man beside her and pushing a baby carriage as they approached the entrance to the beach. They seemed like a happy bunch in Leya’s opinion. 

With a faint smile spread across her face, Leya began to sketch her observations. She captured their general poses in a few quick, well placed pencil strokes and then quickly attempted to add in some details while the couple was still in sight. In about a minute (though it felt like 5 seconds), Leya completed her gesture drawing and smiled contently as her subject matter walked out of view of the Tourist Center.

Another artwork for the collection.

Leya closed her sketchbook and leaned back in her chair, arms stretching up behind her head. She had already been on the clock for a few hours and her fatigue was starting to set in. Maybe when she got home tonight, she would take a nice, long soak in her bathtub. Something to ease the pain of menial labor.

Just then, Leya noticed an elderly man, probably in his late 60s, approaching the desk with a layer of sweat formed on his brow. She guessed she was about to have another “valued guest” — as her manager, Kris, would say. 

“Hello! Welcome to the Costa del Sol Tourist Information Center,” Leya greeted with her sweetest customer service voice as the man approached her stall. “My name is Leya. How may I help you today?”

The “valued guest” absolutely looked like a stereotypical vacationer. His head was bald but his beard was long and white like snow (not that Leya had ever seen snow in person before). He wore a floral button down, a pair of khaki cargo shorts, and sandals. He even had a pair of sunglasses and dollops of sunscreen on his face. There was nothing wrong with looking “stereotypical” though. Honestly, Leya thought the vacationer getup was kind of endearing.

Leya straightened up in her chair and put on her best smile, which was in fact her usual, everyday smile. She prided herself on authentic kindness.

“I just arrived in town this afternoon with my wife,” the man began, taking steps over to Leya’s desk as he spoke. “And she insisted that she stop at this little gift shop on the way to the inn. I told her I would come find her after I checked into our room, but—” He chuckled. “I’m rather forgetful and I think I’m turned around.”

“Would you like me to give you directions back to the inn? Or, I could tell you what shops your wife might have stopped at,” Leya offered, already reaching for one of the many complimentary maps of Costa del Sol that sat on the edge of her desk. You would think for such a small town, people wouldn’t get lost, but it happens more often than not.

“Both would be great, young lady,” he replied, giving her his own warm smile.

“Here…” Leya opened the map and spread it across the counter and grabbed a marker. “You’re right here at the Tourist Information Center, right by the bridge.” She pointed to the star on the map that signified their location. “Here is the Inn, right next to the beach. You can almost see it from here. Just right around the corner. The shops are along the way. Hard to miss.” Leya circled both the inn and a few of the noteworthy shops. “If you still can’t find your wife, you’re welcome to come back to my stall, and I can come help you look.”

The man took the map, a wave of relief washing over him. “Thank you…” He trailed off, squinting at her name tag. “Thank you, Leya! This should help tremendously.”

“My pleasure, sir,” Leya replied. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, thank you, Miss Leya. I can get it from here, I think.”

With a soft smile and a gentle wave, the man left her desk, heading in the direction of the inn as he searched on for his vacationing partner.

Leya leaned back in her chair when the man was out of sight, a small sigh escaping her lips. She really did hope he found his wife. Again, it wasn’t a big town. Surely, they would be okay. Leya would have to convince herself not to worry about them or she would be awake all night.

She decided to open her sketchbook again and look for another muse. Leya’s gray eyes scanned the crowd around her looking for anything of interest. There was a group of small boys kicking around a ball not far from the tourist center. They all had on their swimsuits and were dripping wet. She figured they must have taken a break from swimming to come play soccer in the street. An interesting subject matter, but that much action would be difficult for her to capture.

As she turned back to the right towards the entrance into Costa del Sol, Leya saw something, no,  _ someone _ that immediately made her stare with an unwavering gaze. It was a man — a tall one at that — adorned in a tattered red cloak with black leather clothing, a golden gauntlet on one arm, and a pair of some sort of medieval looking knight’s shoes. He had luxuriously long yet messy black hair billowing behind him, his fringed bangs poking out above a red bandana. He was like no tourist she had ever laid eyes on. It was bound to be hot underneath all of those layers. Maybe if he just took some of his clothes off…

Leya felt heat in her cheeks, and it wasn’t just the humidity this time.

Refusing to look away from the strange man, Leya’s hands fumbled desperately around her desk, blindly searching for her pencil. Somewhere… She had put it down somewhere! She was scared that if she looked away, even for a second, he would disappear forever, vanished without a trace. Her fingers finally grasped her lost pencil and she furiously began to sketch what she saw on the blank page of her sketchbook. 

Leya was enraptured. His strides were so long and his cloak framed his body with each step he took. The all-black leather was a bold choice on its own but with the armored accessories and — was that a gun strapped to his thigh? Wow… His presence was damn hard to ignore, and yet he seemed to weave through the crowd relatively undetected.

She tried her best to draw as much as she could in the minute or so she had with her new muse. He was walking by faster than most of the other tourists, as if there were a more serious task at hand than attending the beach for vacation. Why was he here? Who was this man? Leya’s curiosity was already billowing over. 

She could vividly imagine herself leaving her desk behind as she sprinted towards the strange man. He would see her and stop in his tracks, mesmerized by her beauty… or maybe put off by her forwardness? Either way, her little daydream didn’t matter because Leya knew the rules. She wasn’t allowed to leave her counter unless it was to assist a “valued guest”. Sadly, this man had not approached her stall. He wasn’t technically a guest of the Costa del Sol Tourist Information Center, much to Leya’s dismay. She would have to remain at her post. 

Leya leaned forward onto her desk as much as possible, craning her neck to catch a final glimpse of her unique muse before he turned the corner and slipped out of sight. 

And then he was gone…

Leya stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling as she breathed heavily, utterly stunned.

What had just happened?

She slowly lowered into her seat, her gaze still outwards towards the crowd of comparably less interesting people. She consciously blinked a few times before finally looking down at the work she had created. It wasn’t anything fancy, that was for sure. In fact, it was kind of a hot mess. But, underneath the scribbles and stray marks, she could make out the likeness of the alluring man she had seen seconds ago.

Swiftly, the wheels in Leya’s head started to turn. Yes… Yes! This doodle would be her key to finding him. Her mind began to construct the perfect plan, and tomorrow, she would enact it in order to find this man. Leya refused to rest until her curiosity was quenched.

Leya closed her sketchbook and stored it along with her other drawing supplies into her bag, returning a portion of her attention to her job. (If she was being honest, it was going to be impossible to  _ not _ think about her new muse even a  _ tiny  _ bit while she finished her shift.) With a new burst of motivation, she smiled giddily, like a child dreaming of opening their birthday presents tomorrow morning. She definitely wasn’t going to fall asleep easily tonight.

* * *

Leya had desperately wanted to start her search committee at the beginning of the day, but damn, she was convinced the world was against her. All she wanted was to go look for her mystery man from the day before, but had instead been met with a bombardment of distractions and hurdles. 

First, her father called her that morning when she was about to walk out the door. He rarely called to check up on her now that she was an adult, so of course his timing was impeccable today. 

Then, Leya remembered that she needed to pick up some dry cleaning that she had taken the other day. Shoot. Okay… She took a decent chunk of time out of her morning to go and pick that up, scanning the crowds of people in the streets for her new muse as she went (to no avail), and returned home to put the clothes away. Another half hour wasted.

Agh! Then Leya remembered that she had made plans earlier in the week to do laundry all day today. Her dirty clothes hamper was already overflowing and slowly consuming the floor of her closet. It would continue to grow if she didn’t intervene soon, and she was scared of what kind of laundry monster could emerge. She was forced to take a few hours out of her morning to tame that beast.

By the time that task was complete, it was lunch time, and she really didn’t need to be wandering around town in the heat of the afternoon on an empty stomach, right? Her doctor would be furious if she did… So, Leya prepared some lunch, putting together a delicious turkey and basil pesto sandwich on wheat bread. It was unbelievably delicious in fact — incredibly rich in flavor. The turkey was absolutely the best part. It made her feel so relaxed… and tired...

And two hours later, Leya woke up from her turkey-induced nap. She didn't even remember sitting down on her couch, much less laying down and curling up in a blanket. How could she have been so careless! She had a crucial, time sensitive task at hand. The damned turkey and her restless night of sleep were to blame for this blunder.

Of course, Leya had slept in her clothes, which were now a wrinkled mess, so she had to go change into something else (thankfully, she had done her laundry earlier!). There was no way she could have wooed her new muse with a bunch of awkward creases in her dress, right?

Leya spent the next hour finding the perfect outfit to wear, which was impossible after she had already picked out the perfect outfit this morning! After spending an embarrassing amount of time pacing in her closet, she finally settled on something to wear and went to work on fixing her hair and makeup. Her unforseen nap had tossed her hair around, making it stick out in more than one place, and her makeup had been smudged against the throw pillow she had laid her head on. It wasn’t anything unfixable though. Still, she wondered if she should try a new hairstyle, something to jazz up her appearance to impress that strange man even more. After trying a high ponytail (too sporty), a bun (too messy), and just leaving her hair down (too hot in this weather), she went back to her classic hairdo of pulling her hair to the side in a low ponytail. It would have to do for now, because it was already—

Already 5 o’clock!? WHAT? Dammit… Leya couldn’t believe she had wasted her whole day and had barely left the house at all!

She scrambled to get her things together and finally got out the door to begin her hunt. Her stomach was starting to feel a little hungry, but after the turkey fiasco this afternoon, she didn’t trust food right now. She would just have to manage for now.

She finally was starting her mission. This was it! Leya was going to find him.

But… how?

In her haste and excitement to finally get home and go to bed last night, Leya had forgotten the plan that she had devised so perfectly while finishing her shift. She was now going to have to make things up as she went.

Leya figured a good first stop would be the local inn. It was the only place in Costa del Sol to stay, so unless her muse was a local that she had never seen before (not likely), he had to have a room booked here. She popped inside for a moment and spoke to the owner, who has known Leya ever since she was a baby. He was happy and willing to inform her that a man like the one she described had checked in yesterday and had a room booked for the rest of the week.

Such wonderful news! Her mystery man wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. She had a chance!

The owner of the inn also told Leya that the man she was looking for had left his room this morning and had yet to return, sending her back into the streets to continue searching.

Leya thought to go check the beach. It was the most popular place to go in town, so maybe he was there too? She stepped onto the sandy shore and paced up and down the length of the beach twice, looking for any sign of her muse. She didn’t spot any tall men with long black hair. No all black leather clothing. No red cloak. Nothing… Maybe he just wasn’t a beach-goer. He didn’t really give her that vibe in the first place. Or, maybe he had gone to the beach earlier today and she already missed her opportunity to find him there.

Downtrodden, Leya walked back into town, trying to think of where else he could be at this time. She thought about asking whoever was on duty at the Tourist Center, but no one else was an avid people watcher like her. She doubted that they would have noticed her mystery man, even though he stood out like a sore thumb in her opinion.

She stopped in her tracks, standing in the middle of the street as she looked around at the potential places her strange man could be. The shops seemed to be fairly dead at this time in the evening, and hardly any tourist had a reason to go to the harbor. She ruled those two options. Finally, her eyes settled on the sign for the Bar del Sol. Where would any single guy go to spend his Friday evening? The bar! Of course. It seemed like a perfect place to go check.

Leya stepped through the bar door, the overwhelming smell of salt water mixing in with sweat and alcohol. It was no wonder she didn’t come in here much, besides the fact that she didn’t drink often.

She approached the bar slowly, eyes wandering around the room in search for her objective. She noticed a few locals were staring at her. Now she was the one who stood out like a sore thumb. Leya tried her best to ignore them and focus on why she was in here. He definitely wasn’t sitting at the bar. All of the stools were occupied by grizzled regulars and already-drunk tourists. She quickly decided to back away before she caught any unwanted attention from a vacationing douchebag.

Leya started to check the few other tables that were in Bar del Sol. There was a middle aged couple sitting at one table, sharing some sort of tropical themed beverage. A man with a book (Leya didn’t know how he could read with all of the racket going on) and a small cocktail was sitting at another. She turned to scan the other side of the room. Near the back by the entrance into the employee’s back room was one more table. Sitting alone with a glass of red wine in his hand was the man she had been looking for. His gaze was down, eyes piercing down into the contents of his glass. He hadn’t noticed her staring… yet.

Leya didn’t know why she was holding her breath, but she was. How long had she been doing that? Since she laid eyes on him? Wait, how long had she been staring already? Leya honestly didn’t know the answers. She finally exhaled and slowly, taking one step at a time, approached the table her muse was sitting at. When she had almost made it to the corner of the bar, he finally looked up from his drink and noticed her approaching. Leya expected him to look surprised or confused, maybe even annoyed, but yet, he just sat there with a blank expression, his eyes burrowing into her soul. Leya couldn't make out the color of his eyes in the dimmed lighting of the bar, but they appeared dark and mysterious, just like the rest of his appearance.

Now that she was at the edge of his table, she took another deep breath. “Hi… My name is Leya,” she spoke before processing what she should even say.

“I’m not interested,” the man replied immediately, his voice deep and rough. Leya wondered if he smoked cigarettes because his voice had that sort of raspy quality to it.

“Interested in…?” Leya didn’t understand.

“Whatever service you provide.”

_ S-Service?  _ Surely he didn't mean…

Leya looked down at what she was wearing. Did this man really think that just because she had a high slit in her dress and an off the shoulder top that she was a prostitute or something?

“I don’t have any sort of ‘service,’ thank you very much,” Leya mildly snapped back, taking a seat at the table across from the strange man. His expression didn’t change, but, he did put down his glass of wine before crossing his arms across his chest. He didn’t seem pleased that she was here.

“What do you want?” he asked, notes of irritation in his tone.

_ Okay, then. Right to the point. No chit chat, I guess.  _ She thought to herself.

“My name is Leya, and—”

He cut her off. “You already said your name.” 

“I-I did? Oh. Right… I did, didn’t I?” She fumbled through her words. “And your name is?”

He didn't answer, choosing instead to take a sip of his drink.

“Right…” Leya cleared her throat. “Um… So this is going to sound really weird, maybe even like stalker-y, I don’t know. I mean, I  _ do _ know that I’m definitely NOT stalking you, haha. I just mean like, out of context and all, it could be seen that way.”   
  
No response.

“I, uh, work at the Tourist Information Center here in town,” she began to explain, sweat forming in her palms. “I, um, saw you… yesterday… when I was working. You were walking into town, probably heading to the Inn to check in. I-I know that you’re staying there — again, I promise I’m not stalking you!”

“And?” He took another sip. At least he hadn’t forced her out yet.

“And… and I was so attracted — I mean — I was so intrigued by your appearance,” Leya chuckled awkwardly. Was it hot in here or was it just her? “You just don’t look like anyone I have ever seen before, a-and I see a LOT of people at my job. There is literally NOTHING to do except stare at people. Well, that and draw. RIGHT! Drawing! I saw you, and I was intrigued, right? So I drew you!”

Leya reached into her cross body bag, thankful that she had remembered to bring it with her when she left the house. Inside was her usual assortment of things she took with her to work, including her current sketchbook. She pulled it out and fumbled through the pages, looking for the one with his doodle on it. When she finally found it, she placed the book on the table, turned it towards the strange man, and pushed it over where he could see it.

“See? Look! I drew you yesterday when you came into town!” Leya pointed out excitedly.

“And?”

Leya heaved a sigh, getting mildly frustrated at his lack of enthusiasm and understanding.

“And… and…” Was what she supposed to say? What was the next step in her plan? What came after ‘and’?

“I want to draw you more,” she blurted out. She began to fiddle with her thumbs underneath the table. “I’ve never felt this inspired before. It would mean a lot to me if you would let me draw you again sometime… outside of this bar… in good lighting… with clean air to breathe.”

He took another sip of his drink, finishing off the last of it. Leya was watching his face with hawk-like precision, looking for any change in emotion. There was nothing to be seen.

“Sure,” he spoke up, standing up and out of his chair.

Leya bolted from her own spot at the table, bouncing in excitement. “Really!? Oh my god, thank you!” she cheered, drawing the eyes of multiple bar patrons.

The stranger began to move, heading for the exit. Leya followed him, like a puppy glued to its new master.

“Thank you so, so much, sir. Truly! You won’t regret this, I promise! I’ll buy you ice cream or-or… or whatever you were drinking tonight! I’ll buy you one tomorrow as a thank you,” Leya rambled.

The man didn’t stop walking or acknowledge Leya’s existence. He just continued on, making his way down the street, approaching the Inn. As they drew near the entrance, he moved to open the door, but Leya stopped him.

“Wait!” she shouted a little too loudly. His hand froze over the door handle. “C-Can we meet up tomorrow? I’m not working. I can meet you here… um, after lunch? Yeah? Right after lunch time?”

“Hmm,” he agreed. “I’ll be here.”   
  
“Great! Wonderful! Awesome! Thank you again. Really,” Leya thanked him, probably creeping him out more than she intended.

He nodded his head, acknowledging her one last time before opening the door to the Inn.

“Wait!” she shouted again, causing him to stop in his tracks once more. “What’s your name? My name is—”

“Your name is Leya,” he finished her sentence. He turned his head back to make eye contact with her. For the first time, she could see their color: crimson, deep and rich, like a puddle of blood, a sight she was too familiar with for her own liking. “My name is Vincent. Vincent Valentine.”

When Leya didn’t say anything in response, too stunned to speak, she swore she saw the smallest smirk creep up on her muse’s face.

“Goodnight,” he spoke before stepping inside the inn and closing the door behind him.

Leya was inexplicably already head over heels.


	2. I Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent and Leya have their first official meet up and enjoy some pleasant conversation by the beach while Leya draws her newest muse.

The crashing of the waves into the sandy shoreline was a familiar song to Leya’s ears. The way it fervently creeped onto the land and then receded in quiet resignation was a comfort to her soul. Everything about the beach was a solace. The sun was sympathetic during moments of sadness, the seagulls were her friends when she had few, and the ocean was a melody that could always put her to sleep at night. Every time she had the chance, Leya would venture to the beach near her house and enjoy the splendor of nature.

Today was different though. While the beach still held its usual familiar aura, something entirely new was present among the grains of sand and foamy waves. A stranger, dressed head to toe in black and red in the middle of the summer. This unfamiliar man had captured Leya’s attention the other day during her shift at the Tourist Information Center desk. In the sea of eager beach-goers decked out in their vibrant swimsuits, this man was quiet, mysterious, and somber. He walked with a sense of melancholic purpose, long raven hair billowing behind him as he took tall strides. Leya had only a moment to sketch the stranger as he had passed by the stuffy hole in the wall she called her office.

Now, she had all the time in the world to study him. Well, until the sun went down, Leya reminded herself. The man — he said his name was Vincent — was sitting across from her at a picnic table near the beach. Leya had opted for a spot under the shade for the two of them after her guest had shown up to the beach wearing his full … costume. Leya didn't quite know what to make of his attire. He obviously wasn't a normal citizen, not with the armored shoes, gauntlet, and flowing red cloak. The prestige he exuded in the outfit was, admittedly, infatuating. Leya felt a little risque sitting next to such a serious and powerful looking man.

Feeling like she had been staring at her guest for too long, Leya looked down at her sketchbook in her lap. She had it propped up against the table so she could work at an angle, also obstructing Vincent from view of her work, not that Leya minded if he saw either way. The page currently open had some full body warm-up gesture drawings she had done earlier before they sat down. Nothing embarrassing. Just a few sketches so Leya could remember what his whole outfit looked like when she came back to these drawings at a later date.

She turned the page, revealing a fresh new sheet of paper, and began to work on another drawing. This time — now that they were seated — she wanted to study her model’s face, eager to capture the curves and angles of his unique anatomy. Leya started with a lighter leaded pencil, ideal for making faint guidelines before going in with something bolder and blacker for definite details. 

She was surprised how clammy her hand felt grasped around the pencil. Her nervous excitement in meeting her muse yesterday had boiled over into today’s meeting as well. Leya couldn’t help but tap her foot anxiously as she began to work. Thankfully, the crisp beach air worked wonders at calming her nerves.

“You weren’t joking when you said you wanted to draw me all afternoon,” Vincent spoke up for the first time in a while, the phrase coming across as more of an observed fact than a lighthearted remark. He was trying hard not to move his lips too much as he spoke, hoping it wouldn't disrupt her creative process. It didn't, but she appreciated the gesture.

“O-Oh, I never joke about my art,” Leya teased in response, cracking an awkward smile. Her eyes darted back and forth between her pencil meeting the paper and her subject matter sitting across the table.

“Hmm,” was all Vincent said in response.

As she continued to refine the features of his face, Leya began to think of questions to ask the intriguing man she had barely met a day ago. She was itching to know more about who he was, where he had come from, and how he ended up in Costa del Sol.

“So, uh… Vincent,” she started, his name surprisingly rolling off her tongue with ease. “Where are you from?” The question seemed friendly enough, right? Nothing too invasive, she hoped.

“Why do you ask?”

“You just... don’t seem like you're from Costa del Sol. Plus, I’ve lived here for 24 years and I've never seen you before.”

He paused, taking in her explanation. “I’m not from here. That’s all.”

“Oh. You’re from nowhere specific?” she replied, hoping for clarification.

“No. Nowhere specific.”

“Fair enough,” Leya accepted. She looked down at her sketch. She was stuck trying to capture the slope of his thin nose. She erased a small section and then continued drawing.

“Do you have any family nearby?” Maybe that was why he was in town. He could be visiting some relatives.

“No. I don’t have any family,” he admitted, his voice as stern as always. It seemed as though he would never lighten up or smile.

“O-Oh…” Yikes. Had she offended him by bringing that up? God, Leya hoped not. “What about friends? Do you have any good friends?” She added, praying she could smooth things over.

“Yes.” 

_ Finally! A positive response _ , Leya praised in her mind.

“But none here. Most are in Midgar, or whatever is left of it,” Vincent added. He made a passing glance at her, making brief eye contact while she analyzed his features. Leya regretted not bringing her colored pencils with her today. She would have loved the opportunity to study his crimson eyes… Alas, maybe another day.

“I’ve never been to Midgar,” Leya confessed, looking back down. “Neither before or after the meteor.” Part of her thought he might press and ask why, but he didn’t. He remained silent. He remained still. She was sort of thankful for his quiet disposition.

Finishing up her first attempt at drawing his face, Leya moved her hand to an empty spot on the page, ready to try another. She directed her willing model to look a different way, allowing her to study a different section of his face. Vincent gazed out towards the ocean while Leya got to work replicating the side of his head in her sketchbook.

Time for another question. “What do you do for a living?” she asked. Leya didn’t think her guest looked like a Shinra grunt or a member of SOLDIER, but his tough appearance was proof that he most likely could go toe-to-toe with either of them. Was he a mercenary? A hitman for hire? Leya may have gotten herself in some real trouble this time.

“I help people,” he answered plainly, releasing the smallest sigh. 

“Oh! Me too,” Leya cheered lightly, bouncing in her seat a little. “I know I told you yesterday, but I work at the Tourist Center here in town. I help people get to know more about Costa del Sol, the lovely place I call Home.”

She swore she saw a smirk form on Vincent’s face, but it definitely wasn't there long enough for her to record it on paper.

“My line of work isn’t quite like that. I travel around and help those in need,” he explained further.

“Like a … humanitarian?”

“I wouldn’t use that word, no.”

_ Hmmm… Definitely a mercenary, then.  _ Leya concluded. Not that she minded. Just because he looked dangerous didn’t mean she had to feel in danger around him. Besides, the world was full of people who knew how to fight off monsters with fancy weapons. It was a sight you got used to.

She finished her second sketch and turned the page once more to a clean one. Leya made a mental note that her sketchbook was running low on paper. Thankfully, she had a few half-used ones back home. She shouldn’t need to buy a new one for a while, she guessed. Once again, Leya directed Vincent, this time to turn back towards her but with his gaze down slightly. She decided to make this last drawing fit the whole page, aiming to capture in more vivid detail the way his black hair fell in front of his face. Normally, she was the type to fix someone’s hair if it was in their eyes by tucking it behind their ear, but in this moment, Leya adored the way the strands covered sections of his eyes and nose. It was alluring.

They didn’t speak while she worked this time. Leya opted out of the conversation in order to focus on making this drawing better than her warm-ups thus far. She went back to her lighter pencil, mapping out the key points of his face on the paper. Her eraser came in handy every now and then as she corrected mistakes. Soon enough, she moved to a bolder pencil to refine the details. Over the next few minutes, she sketched in his eyelashes and loose strands of his hair. Leya replicated the folds of his red headband, noticing how worn it looked perched on his forehead. The fabric covered his eyebrows, but she imagined that they were handsome underneath.

In due time, the drawing was completed. Leya leaned back in her seat, heaving a sigh of relief, pleased with the work she had done. She started to put away her drawing supplies. Surely they had done enough for today… The last thing she wanted was to waste her lovely guest’s time too much. A little time wasted was acceptable, though. That was a key part of flirting.

“Are you finished?” Vincent asked.

“O-Oh, um, yeah! I don’t want to bother you too much. These drawings will satisfy my creativity for now,” Leya admitted, pulling the strap of her bag onto her shoulder. 

He hadn’t asked to see any of her drawings yet, Leya noted. Almost every time she invited someone to act as her model for an afternoon, they usually asked to see what she had created when she was finished. She found it odd that Vincent had not done the same.

“Do you want to see what I drew today?” she questioned him, presenting the sketchbook to him in her hand. “They’re pretty good! If I do say so myself,” she joked. “You make an excellent model.”

The strange man shook his head, politely refusing her offer. “No thanks,” he replied with a serious tone.

“Why not?” Leya asked back, genuinely curious. Plenty of people didn’t like to see themselves in photographs. Maybe he was like that but with drawings. Or maybe he thought her artistic skills weren’t very good and was trying to spare her from his critique.

He thought for a moment. “I don’t understand art… but if you do, that is all that matters.”

Leya couldn’t help but giggle. His honesty was a breath of fresh air. 

“I like you, Vincent Valentine,” she teased with a wide, warm smile across her face. Leya paused. Oh no… Had she actually said that aloud? After knowing him for a day?

He looked away, gazing out at the far off horizon. “You don’t know me.”

“No, I guess I don’t,” she admitted, chuckling awkwardly to hide her embarrassment. “But I want to.”

Another small sigh escaped his lips. “You’ve met me at a strange time in my life, Leya,” he replied. She thought he might say more but he left it at that, choosing not to explain himself.

“I’m glad I met you, though,” she replied, and he said nothing more.

“Um… do you want to get coffee tomorrow morning?” Leya spoke timidly, hoping to fill the silence his previous statement had left. Her palms felt even more sweaty as she tightened her fingers around her sketchbook. She had never asked anyone out before… not quite like this, not to a man that made her heart flutter like no one had before. Everything felt different and new this time.

“How about the afternoon?”

Leya nodded, still smiling from earlier. “That sounds wonderful. Um, there’s a great place near the inn. It’s hard to miss. I’ll see you there at…?”

“2 o’clock,” he finished.

“2 o’clock,” she repeated, making a mental note of their date.

“Are you going to draw me again?”

Leya laughed, geuniely amused by his honest question. “No,” she answered. “I think tomorrow, I want to get to know you.”

He turned his head to see her face. Both of their long locks of hair blowed softly in the gentle summer breeze. Leya’s smile was from cheek to cheek, and Vincent…? Well, he didn’t look cross, and that was enough for her.

“Sounds good,” he agreed with her.

The date was set. Leya was thrilled to see what was in store, knowing in her heart that her mystery man had more intrigue yet to come. But for now, she was happy to go home and look at her work from today, to gaze upon it and daydream of the man she had drawn all afternoon.


	3. Farmers' Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After going on a personal tour of Costa del Sol, Leya and Vincent spend some time perusing the local farmers' market.

“And… Here is where we started our tour,” Leya said to Vincent beside her, gesturing out to the open courtyard in the middle of town. “Like I said at the beginning, this place is the hub of town activities. You’re at a walking distance from the Inn, the bar, the Tourist Center, and the beach!”

Leya was surprised that they had managed to walk through all of the interesting stops in town all before lunch time. She guessed that that was a perk of meeting outside the Inn only mere minutes after sunrise. It had been Vincent’s idea to meet so early, and who was Leya to disagree with him? She could barely think around the mysterious man, let alone try to argue with him. Unfortunately, the early start to the day still left Leya yawning every now and then. Maybe she could squeeze in a nap this afternoon.

“What’s happening right now?” Vincent questioned her, looking out into the cobbled courtyard.

When they had started their tour of Costa del Sol this morning, this courtyard was bare with hardly a soul in sight. Sure, the locals had already been up and moving, opening their businesses before the swarm of tourists woke up, but now? The place was bustling to the brim. There were tables and awnings set up in every inch of the place, a wide assortment of goods being displayed at each booth. How could Leya have forgotten what today was?

“Oh man!” she cheered, bouncing up and down in place giddily. “Today is the farmers’ market! What a perfect way to end our tour.”

“A farmers’ market?”

“Yeah! You know, people set up little booths and sell fresh honey or lavender soap or knitted scarves,” she explained. Had he never heard of one before?

“Don’t most places do this sort of thing on the weekends? Today is Monday.”

Leya nodded, acknowledging his point. “True, True, but in Costa del Sol, we have ours on Mondays. It used to be on Sunday, but all of the tourists like to sleep in on the weekends and often missed it entirely. Now, it’s open every Monday of the Summer.”

Vincent crossed his arms across his chest, shifting his gaze from the busy crowd of bargainers to Leya beside him. He loomed almost a foot over her. “Hmm…” He hummed, taking in what she had said.

“Come on! Let’s go check it out,” Leya shouted happily, grabbing his arm as she attempted to pull him towards the commotion. 

He resisted, tugging his arm back to his side, heaving a huff of what she guessed was mild annoyance. “What would I need to buy there? I don’t see the point. Besides, you live here. Surely you’ve seen everything they have to offer.”

Leya turned to face him, now standing in between him and the market. She put on her best puppy face, knowing she wasn’t going to lose that easily. “Come on… please?” She started, locking gazes with him. “I promise it’ll be fun. Besides, I’m almost out of that lavender soap I mentioned and I really want some more. It’ll only take a minute to walk around and buy some soap.”

She watched as Vincent looked at the crowd of people and back down to her, as if weighing the pros and cons of her offer. Her resolve was unwavering. Maybe it was the heat beating down on him or the smell of saltwater leaving him slightly queasy, but Leya smiled as Vincent sighed, seeming to accept that he was weak to this girl’s desires. “Sure,” he said, taking a step to close the gap between them.

Leya squealed in delight, clapping her hands for a moment as she celebrated her tactical victory. She reached for his arm again, and much to her amusement, he didn’t protest this time. Leya wrapped her arm around his and led the way into the market before them, Vincent reluctantly following.

Her eyes darted rapidly from stall to stall as different products fought for her attention. There was fresh produce at a multitude of booths with goods ranging from fresh corn to blueberries and tomatoes to chiles. As tempting as the food looked, Leya knew that any of the produce would go to waste if she didn’t have a particular dish in mind when buying them. She related it to the apprehension behind starting a brand new sketchbook. Even if the ideas were flowing, there was a wall of anxiety preventing her from wanting to taint the first page. In a similar way, fresh produce bought with no purpose in mind would sit on her kitchen counter as she pondered the best way to use them.

They continued to make their way through the aisles, looking for something interesting. Leya stopped in her tracks, her eyes locking on to a display of hand knitted creations. She audibly gasped, pulling Vincent over to check out the goods.

“Hello, Leya,” the old woman behind the table greeted, a kind smile on her face. She had a wooden crochet hook in her hand and was working on something indiscernible. Leya recognized the woman as the wife of one of the local shop owners. “Who’s your friend?” the woman asked, her gaze turning upwards to Vincent.

“Hello, Mrs. Maisel,” Leya replied back, matching her smile. “This is my new friend, Vincent. He’s visiting Costa del Sol for the first time.”

Vincent tried to smile but it was brief (though his cloak’s high collar made it hard to see his mouth in the first place). He chose instead to nod his head politely in return.

“Do you have anything new?” Leya asked, eyeing the old woman’s creations displayed across the table. 

There were a variety of scarves, hats, mittens, and sweaters to choose from in a multitude of colors. Most were made of a variety of solid colors while some were made of rainbow yarns. Those goods in particular caught Leya’s eye, though she wondered if she had the courage to wear such a bold array of colors out in public.

“I made some more sweaters just like the last one you bought,” Mrs. Maisel replied, gesturing to a stack of folded clothes at the end of her table. “I know how much you love that blue sweater you bought last summer.”

Leya’s eyes lit up as she pulled Vincent closer to the stack of hand-knitted sweaters. Sure enough, there were many to choose from in a variety of fun new colors like pink and yellow and pastel purple. Leya could have spent hours imagining herself wearing each sweater until she picked out the most suitable one, but, with Vincent at her side, she felt pressure to pick one quickly.

Her hands reached and picked up an olive green sweater. She felt the yarn the garment was composed of, noticing both its softness and its strength.

“I’ll take this one,” Leya told the kind old woman, already reaching for her bag of gil.

“Oh honey, consider it a gift,” she replied, waving her hands to signal Leya to put her money away. “I’m sorry that I didn’t have any finished to give to you on your birthday. Take this as a belated birthday gift.”

Leya smiled. She really didn’t have to treat her with such generosity, but Leya knew better than to argue. Instead, she figured she could tease a little.

“You know that my birthday was in February, right, Mrs. Maisel?”

The old woman laughed. “No… It seems I’ve forgotten that. Take the sweater anyway, dear. On the house.”

Leya tucked the garment away into her bag, said a heartfelt thanks, and then left the booth with a warm smile on her face, tugging Vincent along beside her. He hadn’t said much while stopped at the booth. Actually, Leya didn’t think he had said anything. Was that normal for him?

“You know, I bet Mrs. Maisel is talented enough to make you a crocheted cloak just like the one you have on,” Leya started. “Wouldn’t that be so cozy? Like a big blanket around your shoulders!”

She swore she heard him laugh. Maybe it was more of a half-grunt, half-chuckle… That seemed more fitting for him.

“I don’t think that would be very practical,” Vincent replied, glancing down at her as she led them further into the market.

“Practicality and comfort are two different things, my friend.”

They approached a new row of booths, so Leya did her best to survey the area and look for products that piqued her interest. She was compelled to check out a dozen or so booths that caught her eye, but, for Vincent’s sake, she stayed diligent. They were here to get soap after all. Would her guest become upset if she wasted too much of his time? Admittedly, Leya had not spent enough time with the man to know the answer to her own question.

Finally, Leya spotted the booth she was looking for. Displayed across the front table was a wide array of bath-related products. There were homemade shampoos, body washes, hand soaps, and even lotions. Each one had its own unique and organic scent. Even from across the aisle, Leya could smell the symphony of smells mixing together. It definitely beat the smell of sweaty tourists.

“There it is,” Leya pointed out, using her free hand to gesture towards the vendor and his wares.

Together, they approached the booth, Leya practically beaming with excitement. This soap really has the best in the world, or at least, the best in Costa del Sol. She had never left town before, so she didn’t have a point of reference. Regardless, she loved this particular soap and wanted to savour it for as long as possible.

“Hello!” she greeted the man behind the table. Leya recognized him, but didn’t know him as well as other vendors here.

Vincent, like before, nodded his head as his own form of greeting.

Leya surveyed the variety of goods before her, looking for the legendary lavender soap. She noted that there were some new scents — a few citrus-related ones — but no, that wasn’t what she wanted. Mint? No… There were even some pine scented soaps. Leya couldn’t help but give the bars a sniff, curious to smell wintery pine trees for the first time. But alas, that wasn’t the scent she was looking for.

As her eyes scanned from product to product, something new caught her attention. In a small basket on the table was a dozen or so small, circular bars of soap, like disks almost. Unlike most of the other soaps which were rectangular, opaque, and pastel in color, this soap was clear, revealing in its center a beautifully encased red rose. It was as if the rose was a precious treasure encased in glass. Leya couldn’t peel her eyes away from it. The vibrancy of the red petals reminded her of the crimson cloak fastened on the man beside her.

Leya picked up one of the circular soaps, and, when she had finally spotted the lavender soap she had come here for, she grabbed one of those too and paid the man the gil he was owed. Turning to Vincent, Leya handed him the little brown paper bag the man had put the rose soap inside.

“Here,” she started. “I bought this for you.”

He looked confused, the fabric headband bunching up as he furrowed his brow slightly. “For me? Why?”

“It reminded me of you,” Leya answered simply. “Besides, everyone uses soap, right? Surely you can find a use for it.”

“Right…” Vincent replied, accepting her token with mild reluctancy. “Thank you… Would you like something in return?”

She chuckled politely, looking up into Vincent’s intense eyes. “Oh, you don’t have to do that, haha.”

“Are you sure? What about…” He began to survey the booths around them, as if looking for something that she might want him to purchase for her. After a few seconds, his eyes settled on something.

“What about a carving knife? For your kitchen,” he asked her, gesturing to a booth a few yards away that hosted a plethora of kitchen tools and appliances. 

_ An odd choice of wares for a farmers’ market… and an odd choice for a gift.  _ Leya thought to herself.

“You said you live alone, right? Do you cook your own food then?”

Leya wasn’t sure how she should visibly react. Inside, she was busting a gut, thoroughly entertained by his attempt to please her with an appropriate gift. But, she didn’t want to insult the man’s honest attempt, so she chose instead to collect herself to the best of her ability. Though, a wide, cheeky grin still forced its way onto her face.

“I do live alone,” she confirmed. “But, I really don’t need a fancy carving knife. Really. I don't have any special knives like that back home.”

“Alright,” he accepted, tearing his gaze away from the knives and back down to Leya beside him. “You have your soap now?”

She nodded.

“Then, I should be leaving.”

He began to walk out of the busy conglomeration of stalls and booths, this time taking the lead as he carefully led Leya back out onto the unoccupied sidewalk. He unlinked their arms, returning his hand to his side as he stood in front of her stoically.

“Thank you for the tour… and the soap,” Vincent said earnestly, bowing slightly once more out of appreciation.

Leya instinctively mimicked his movements, bowing her own head in return. It felt like an oddly appropriate gesture to do around Vincent Valentine.

“You are absolutely welcome,” she replied. “Um… how long will you be in town?” The question came out of nowhere, blurted out in an attempt to keep him there just a few moments longer.

“A few more days,” Vincent replied, leaving it at that.

“Can I see you again? Before you go?” It was a bold question, that was for sure. They had already spent three days together in a row, starting with their time sketching by the beach, then the coffee date the next day, and now today’s tour of town. Was Leya being too forward?

“Hmm…” He hummed. “Sure.”

The answer came as a surprise, but Leya was elated nonetheless. She loved proving her own inner doubts wrong.

The two agreed to meet up in a day or so and parted ways for now. Leya started her trek down the sidewalk towards her house, glancing back behind her to see Vincent still standing by the farmers’ market. When their eyes met one last time, he raised his hand and gave her a simple, yet friendly wave. It gave Leya butterflies for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope that you're enjoying this story so far! Leya and Vincent are both cuties doing their own cute things, haha. Too bad Vincent is leaving town in a few days... Stay tuned to see what is up next for the pair!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. The Last First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After enjoying a lovely picnic by the sea, Vincent breaks the news to Leya that he's leaving town in the morning.

As the roaring sound of the ocean waves reverberated through Leya’s ears, she realized that there was nowhere else she would rather be at this moment. An overwhelming sense of tranquility washed over her as she sat on the shoreline, her hands stretched back behind her as she propped herself up against the sandy floor. A large multicolored quilt was beneath her, preventing sand from invading every inch of her body, not that she minded. The sand was her friend, an annoying one, but a friend nonetheless.

During a normal evening spent at the beach, Leya would have happily sat and watched the sunset with undivided attention, enamored by the beautiful brushstrokes of pink, orange, purple, and yellow in the sky. But today, she couldn’t stop looking at the man beside her.

On the other side of her quilt was Vincent Valentine, her new unlikely friend and source of her nearly unbearable romantic feelings. Leya knew without a doubt that she hadn’t known this man long enough to justify the way she felt, but, as the saying goes, the heart wants what it wants.

Her gaze darted back and forth shyly between her hands in her lap and Vincent’s face a few feet away. Between the two of them were the remains of their picnic dinner sprawled out across the blanket. It had been Vincent’s idea to have dinner together, but Leya had been the one to volunteer to put together a picnic basket. That way they could enjoy a famous Costa del Sol sunset right on the beach. He hadn’t argued with her, and, judging by the warmth in his eyes, Leya suspected he was rather enjoying himself.

Leya allowed her eyes to carefully linger on Vincent beside her. He was the most relaxed she had seen him all week. He had left his armor back at the inn and swapped out his pointed shoes for some simple black leather lace up boots. Vincent had even taken off his cloak when he got here a few hours ago and set it on the blanket for safe keeping. She prayed that it was all a sign that he was opening up to her.

Moving her attention to the book beside her lap, Leya debated picking it up to give her eyes a break from looking at Vincent. She didn’t have the focus to read right now though, but she definitely knew how to feign interest. Before dinner, they had chatted a bit before moving on to read their respective books as previously planned, choosing to utilize the serene atmosphere around them. Leya wasn’t a huge reader, but she did own a handful of romance novels. It was probably her books’ fault that she felt so strongly about a mysterious man in armor. Damn those stupid love stories.

She heaved a sigh of frustration, not sure what she should be doing at this moment: this beautiful, picturesque, romantic moment. Leya was convinced that she  _ wanted  _ to hold his hand right now, to give it a little squeeze and tell him how she felt. But, that was the last thing she actually considered doing. She wasn’t a moron. Leya knew if she dropped a bomb like that, she would ruin what little of a relationship they already had.

Her body moved before her mind had a chance to catch up, desperate to shake off some of her anxious thoughts. Leya stood up, kicking her sandals off to the side, allowing her toes to sink into the cooling sand. It was a small solace in the midst of her uncertainty.

Without looking back at Vincent, Leya said, “I think I’m going to go for a swim. Would you care to join me?”

“I don’t like getting wet,” Vincent admitted, his tone somewhat apologetic. “But go ahead. Don’t stop because of me.”

“O-Oh, okay,” she replied, trying her best to conceal the hurt in her tone. “I really don’t want to stop hanging out with you… Forget I said anything. I should just sit back down.” She crossed her arms across her chest, feeling vulnerable as she just stood there, not sure what to do with herself.

She heard rustling behind her before seeing Vincent appear at her side.

“Do you want to walk by the waves?” he asked her, extending his hand out for her to take. “Sorry I don't swim.”

Just a few days ago, she had taken his hand and guided him through the farmers’ market in town. Now the thought of coming into contact with him again scared her. Regardless of her fears, her body once again acted first, reaching out to take his hand willingly. It was only when their skin properly touched for the first time that Leya realized Vincent wasn’t wearing his gloves. The feeling of his calloused skin against her soft hands was oddly comforting.

“Okay,” was all she managed to say in response.

Her hand in his, Vincent brought Leya closer to the where the waves met the shore. He guided her to the left of his body, putting her in between him and the vastness of the ocean. As the waves began to creep up onto the sand, they tickled and comforted Leya’s feet while Vincent was spared getting wet. It was an ideal compromise.

Their hands remained clasped for only a moment before Vincent slipped his fingers away, returning his arm to the side of his body. Leya desperately wished she had held on longer, but didn’t dare defy his wishes.

“Thank you,” Leya spoke softly, gaze downwards as she spoke, fixated on the foamy water lapping at her toes. It secretly meant a lot to her that he was willing to come out this far.

“You like the ocean, right? It makes sense. You’ve lived here your whole life,” Vincent replied, hearing her thanks but choosing not to acknowledge it.

“It makes me very happy,” she agreed. 

After pausing for a moment, Leya continued, “You know, so many people I know talk about the wonderful things out there in the world, the cool stuff that sparks their joy.” She sighed. “But I’ve never left Costa del Sol, no matter how much I’ve wanted to. I had to find my own little sparks of joy right here in my hometown. Very quickly, the ocean became that source of happiness. I learned that no matter what happened during my day, no matter what people came in and out of my life, the ocean wasn’t going to leave.” She couldn’t help but release a disheartened giggle. “Sounds silly, right?”

“Why haven’t you ever left?” He questioned her sincerely.

It was a valid question, but one with a complicated answer. Leya’s fear crept back into her body, taking control of her thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to be honest… She was so afraid of being seen for who she was.

“My dad... um, my dad never let me. Said it was dangerous for a girl to travel on her own,” Leya replied, half speaking the truth. “I never disobeyed his request, I guess.”

“Hmm, I see,” Vincent replied, choosing not to pry.

“But you,” Leya started, mustering up her courage to look up at him as they continued to walk side by side. “You’ve traveled around a lot, yeah?”

He nodded his head. “I’ve been almost everywhere on the planet. My job takes me a lot of places.”

“Even Costa del Sol?”

Vincent huffed out his version of a chuckle. “Even Costa del Sol.”

There was a quiet lapse in conversation until Vincent chose to speak up again.

“I’m actually leaving town tomorrow,” he admitted, gaze fixated ahead.

Leya stopped in her tracks.

“Wait, what? No…”

Vincent finally stopped a few paces ahead of her, his reaction delayed. He turned his body around to meet her gaze.

“I have other places to be, Leya,” he explained. He stood still like a rugged statue carved out of stone. So lifelike, and yet, so distant.

“O-Oh… right.” Once again, she let out a laugh tinged with sadness. “It was dumb of me to think you would be here longer. I knew that you only had a room booked at the inn for a week.”

“I got you a gift,” Vincent added as if it was an afterthought. “It’s by the blanket if you want to open it now.”

She shook her head, too focused on his depressing news. The last thing she wanted was to pretend to be happy after receiving his gift.

“W-What time are you leaving?” Leya asked, taking a small step forward. “Will I see you again?”

No, no, no… This was all ending too suddenly. There was so much left to say and do together. It was too early for him to leave.

“I’ll be leaving early in the morning. I won't see you again,” he answered, no emotion in his voice. Leya couldn’t tell if he was sad about his departure or happy to finally be rid of this place, to be rid of her.

This was the part in the romance novels where the girl would cry, absolutely distraught at the loss of her lover. The man would comfort her and tell her everything would be alright. They would embrace, maybe kiss goodbye, and, even though the girl would be heartbroken, she knew that her man would come back.

Leya didn’t have a moment like that. She had no reassurance. Her and Vincent stood a yard apart, both of them unmoving. Leya refused to look at him for fear of bursting into tears at the sight of him. She had to look strong. She had to look composed. She had to look like she was okay… even though she wasn’t. She had plenty of practice.

“R-Right… Well,” Leya started, sniffling for a second to keep the tears back. “Let’s get you back to the inn so you can get some sleep before you travel.”

“Are you sure?” he questioned her, taking a step closer.

Leya turned around, still unable to look him in the eye.

“Y-Yeah. Let’s go,” she answered. “There’s nothing else we can do tonight anyway. It’s getting too cold to be outside.”

Leya painfully made her way back to their makeshift picnic, each foot stomping in the ground as she walked. Looking at it now, it felt so trivial and childish. Vincent must be quite the gentleman to put up with her dumb date idea. What grown man wanted to have a picnic? She felt stupid for suggesting it.

She quickly started to pack away her things, starting by slipping back on her sandals. Leya opened up her basket and started to stuff the used sandwich bags, containers of fruit, and empty glasses inside, not caring if it all wasn’t perfectly organized like it had been when they first arrived at the beach. When the dinner supplies were all stored away, she shoved her idiotic romance novel into her purse and then began to roll up her old quilt. By that time, Vincent had made his way back over to their picnic spot, his stride surprisingly slower than hers today.

Leya looked away from him, still convinced that if she looked at Vincent, all hell would break loose inside of her. As she finished rolling the blanket, she felt a light weight plop down onto her shoulders. Looking up, she saw that Vincent had picked up his signature crimson cloak and had placed it on her, the faintest hint of a sad smile on his face.

“You’re right,” he started. “It’s cold outside… You should bundle up more.”

Leya’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before turning back to the task in front of her. Before finishing the final steps on getting everything squared away, she tugged on his cloak a little, pulling it around her body more to shield her from the crisp night breeze. She couldn’t help but smell traces of spice and smoke clinging to the tattered fabric.

“Thank you,” she whispered, standing up with her bags hanging off her arm as she held the cloak closed with her free hand.

“Let’s get you home,” he said next, beginning to walk towards the beach’s exit.

The next few minutes were quieter than Leya wanted them to be. Any other day this week, she would have been overjoyed at the thought of Vincent walking her home. It should have allowed for some extra conversation between the two, but not today. Leya had a million things she wished to say and no energy or courage to give them a voice. It was as if her voice had abandoned her in her greatest time of need.

Soon enough, they approached Leya’s front door, the true end of their time together finally upon them. She set her picnic basket down by the door and reluctantly handed Vincent his cloak back. As much as she would love to keep it, she knew it was a part of his signature style, and she couldn’t bear to separate him from it… not that he would actually give it to her permanently in the first place.

When Leya opened her purse to fish for her keys, she spotted her sketchbook inside. The sight of it gave her a desperate idea, a last shot at making things work between them. She grabbed the book and opened it carefully, conscious of Vincent’s gaze on her. Flipping through the pages, she finally landed on one of the drawings she had done of him the first time they hung out only a few days ago. It was a portrait of him, of course, focused on his stern facial expression. With extra caution, she tore the page out of the journal and folded it into fourths. Leya then fumbled through her bag blindly with her hand until she felt a pencil. Using it, she quickly scribbled a note on the backside of the folded paper and then handed the piece of paper to Vincent.

“For you,” she spoke up. “So you can remember me.”

Vincent’s fingers gingerly grasped the paper, his eyes staring at it for a brief moment before storing it away in his pocket. He reached into another pocket and pulled out a decently sized brown paper parcel and handed that to her in exchange.

“For you,” he repeated back to her. “The gift I mentioned.”

Leya took the package in her hands and held it close to her chest, heaving a heavy sigh. This was it. There was only one last thing to say. An audible prayer. A shot in the dark.

“Vincent, will you come back and visit me?” she asked, desperate for a glimmer of hope. “Promise that you’ll come back and see me, alright? Please?”

Vincent swept his red cloak around his body and fastened it in place before looking straight at her, his gaze unwavering. She couldn’t pinpoint the nuanced emotion on his face. Was he pleased with her gift? Sad to never see her again? Annoyed at her request? Leya wished she knew.

“I promise,” he finally replied. “I’ll come back.”

The response brought tears to her eyes. As the tiny droplets rolled down her cheek, she used the sleeve of her thin sweater to wipe them away. It felt like a dream come true. Leya opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She didn’t know what to say anymore.

“Goodnight, Leya,” Vincent spoke one last time before turning and walking away. 

Leya stood there and watched him leave, following his movement with her tear filled eyes until he turned a corner as was out of sight for forever. Even then, she remained on her front porch, unable to leave. She needed the extra time to process.

When she finally felt like she could move her body once more, she remembered the parcel in her hands. The gift from Vincent. With caution, she unwrapped the paper to reveal a medium sized kitchen knife. It was one of the knives he had pointed out at the farmers’ market a few days ago. The sight made Leya laugh out loud and then sob almost immediately.

She was going to miss Vincent Valentine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, it was kind of painful to write this chapter at times. I know it's not THAT sad, but making any of my characters upset is a struggle for me. Regardless, this is an important step in their relationship! There is more to come. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Time Passed & Secrets Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year has now passed since the last chapter and the events in "The Dirge of Cerberus" have come and gone. Vincent contemplates how he can be a better person and decides to visit an old yet new friend. Little does he know, he'll find her in a place he never expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild trigger warning for talk of trauma (nothing specific) and interacting with hospitals.

A lot could happen in a year — love and loss, celebrations and defeats — but it all felt like a blur when aging was obsolete. Vincent had learned that truth a long time ago. No matter how hard he wanted to enjoy the present, to savor each day as it came and went, it was impossible for him. What was the point? Tomorrow would always come. A day would turn into a week, a week into a month, and well… 30 years had passed for Vincent and he was still trapped inside his young adult body.

These were the kinds of thoughts Vincent tried to block out of his mind when he rode his bike across the planet. There was nothing to do except drive and think. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the healthiest internal dialogue and he knew that. He had spent so many decades torturing himself over his “sin.” It felt foolish to call it that after everything he had been through this year. No, he wasn’t sinful. Vincent knew now that he was traumatized and blaming himself had been his way to cope.

Trauma.

It was an unusually heavy burden to carry and one Vincent never thought he would get. Trauma was supposed to be like PTSD, something only soldiers got after going through hell on the battlefield. Trauma was so much more than that though. Vincent knew he had been through some shit in his life but considering it hellish was the first big step in acknowledging how fucked up he really was.

His hands tightened around the handles of his motorcycle as he grimaced at his own thoughts.

He  _ was _ fucked up. Sinful, no. But traumatized and fucked up. Those were the words his mind circled back to, like a buzzard waiting for its next meal.

Not being able to focus anymore, Vincent pulled over onto the shoulder of the road. Heaving a sigh, he hopped off his bike and took off into the forest, hoping to walk for a bit to clear his mind. This was the third time today he had to stop to reset his thoughts. 

This last year consisted mostly of saving the world (multiple times) and preventing the deaths of millions of people. He had gained some sort of closure with Lucrecia, something he didn’t know he needed until it had happened. And lastly, with Chaos returned to the planet, Vincent was free of the monster inside him.

Well, one monster was gone at least.

Vincent would never be rid of himself, and as scarred and tortured and dangerous as he was, he knew beyond a doubt that he was a monster.

Agh… He was thinking that way again. It was so easy to default to hating himself.

Sighing again, Vincent stopped in his tracks, looking around at the trees around him. For the most part, the world was still, minus the small breeze and the occasional rustling sound. It seemed so peaceful to just stand there and soak it in. Vincent wished he could spend all of his time being in nature instead of hopping around the planet while he searched for a purpose.

Maybe, if he was being honest, he just felt lonely. He had spent so many years asleep in that coffin, completely alone, and after miraculously making some oddball friends, he left them to travel the world, completely alone yet again.

Some friend he was.

Was there a way he could do better? To reach out to those in his life? Vincent thought he could at least start with a phone call. It was as simple as calling Cloud and… Damn, what was he supposed to say? Screw it. Vincent figured he could wing it. Dialing his friend’s number was the first step.

He began to check his pockets for his godforsaken cellphone. The hellish piece of machinery was something he was forced into getting by his friends in AVALANCHE. Actually, little Marlene had been the biggest proponent. She insisted that he needed one so he could call her, Denzel, Tifa, and Cloud every day. Vincent ultimately obliged, though he struggled to meet the young girl’s high standards.

After reaching into a few of his pockets, he still couldn’t find his phone. He cursed under his breath, deciding to check them over again. It was then that his hands came into contact with a piece of paper.

_ Odd _ , he thought to himself, pulling it out to inspect it.

It was a folded sheet of unlined paper, unfortunately crumpled after being in his pocket for who knows how long. What was this? A map to a facility he had infiltrated before? A flyer someone shoved in his face in Midgar? Vincent couldn’t recall.

His curiosity piqued, he unfolded the paper, trying not to rip it to the best of his ability. Inside was a pencil drawing of none other than himself. It was a close-up portrait of his face, immense care and detail obviously put into recreating his likeness.

A forgotten memory flooded his mind. A cheerful girl with sunkissed skin, golden blonde hair, and stormy eyes. She had liked sweaters and… soap? He recalled her persistence in wanting to buy some lavender soap with him one afternoon. The thought actually made Vincent chuckle. How could he have forgotten the quirky girl from Costa del Sol so quickly?

Flipping the paper over to the other side, he found a handwritten note scribbled on the back. The pencil markings were a little faded from wear inside his pocket but he managed to make out the words just fine.

_ “Vincent, _

_ I don’t have time to write you a whole letter while you’re standing in front of me, but hey! Please come back to Costa del Sol and visit me. I’ve had the best week spending time with you. I hope that you’ve enjoyed it too. _

_ Leya” _

Her name was signed with a heart, and below the note was a phone number  — presumably hers  —  hastily jotted down.

“Leya,” he breathed, the name rolling off his tongue with surprising ease.

He had intended on trying to make amends with his AVALANCHE friends first, but, deep inside Vincent’s gut, he felt as if he had neglected this girl even more. After all, a promise was a promise. He was done saving the world. Now was the perfect time to visit an old yet new friend.

He returned to his hastened search and finally found his cell in one of his numerous pockets. Slowly, with painstaking precision, Vincent created a new contact for Leya with the phone number listed on the note. He punched the dial button and put the device up to his ear, curious to see if she would answer.

After a minute of ringing, it finally went to voicemail, a bubbly pre-recorded message asking Vincent to leave a message to get in contact with her. He flipped his phone shut, choosing instead to just surprise her. Vincent stashed the phone and the note back into his pockets and headed back to his bike, a new sense of motivation washing over him.

  
  


Vincent thought he would have more time to mull things over on his journey to Costa del Sol, but like most passages of time, it went by in a blur. One minute he was riding to the docks a hundred miles or so west of Midgar, and the next, Vincent was sitting on a boat, staring out at the sea as he made his way to the western continent. He had wanted to formulate some sort of plan, some sort of conversation to have with Leya to explain his presence, but everytime he remembered to think about it, no ideas came to mind.

It was nearly summer, so almost a full year had passed since he was last there. Surely the tourists would be flocking to town, just like him, though his intentions varied strongly from most tourists. He was here to meet an old friend, a friend he didn’t know that well. Actually, as he dwelled on it, he really didn’t know her at all. He recalled that she mentioned she had lived in the beachy city her whole life, that she lived alone, and that she was 24 years old, but that was the extent of his knowledge.

So young… Vincent could barely remember what it felt like to be 24, to have energy and motivation before the existential dread of approaching 30 kicked in, not that Vincent would ever truly be 30 years old. He felt like an old man, but he would forever be a young one.

Vincent blinked and the freight boat was suddenly pulling into harbor. Sometimes his so-called “time-skipping” habits came in handy. It felt like he had barely been on the boat for an hour, though it definitely had been most of the day.

When the boat was finally securely docked and Vincent got the okay, he rode his bike off the boat slowly and made his way into town. By now, it was almost sunset. There was a decent crowd of people making their way to the Bar del Sol and other restaurants to enjoy a meal and a few drinks before bed. He carefully rode through the streets, and when he passed the busy downtown area, he picked up his speed and made his way to Leya’s house. It had been a year, yes, but Vincent surprisingly remembered where she lived. Something about escorting her home on foot had cemented the directions in his mind.

He turned down her street and parked his bike in front of her house. The lights were off, which seemed a little odd. Vincent recalled they had been on the night he took her home, in preparation for her nighttime arrival. So… Surely if she wasn’t home, the lights would be on to welcome her, but if she was home, wouldn’t the lights inside the house be on? Vincent peered into the main front facing windows from his position on the sidewalk. He couldn’t see any glimmer of light.

Deciding to go knock on the door anyway, Vincent approached the front door. He rang the doorbell first and waited. No response. Then he knocked, politely but definitely loudly enough for it to be heard throughout the house. No response.

Maybe he should call again?

Vincent took out his phone and after looking up Leya’s contact again, he dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail this time, the bubbly message greeting Vincent’s ears once again. Something felt… off.

Getting back on his motorcycle, Vincent figured he would go check the Tourist Information Center. He remembered that she was employed there, and while he had not seen her working when he came into town, maybe someone at the desk would know her whereabouts.

He rode back into the heart of town and up to the tiny information stall and parked his bike, gaining a few stares from passersby. Working the desk was a young man with tan skin and messily quaffed light brown hair. Vincent noticed the man tense up when he approached the counter.

“C-Can I help you, sir?” the man started, clearly thrown off by Vincent's presence. “I-I mean, Welcome to the Costa del Sol, um, Tourist, uh, Information Center.”

“Do you know Leya?” Vincent asked curtly, getting to the point.

“Leya Coyle?”

“She works here, right?”

The young man nodded his head vigorously. “Yeah, she’s like a veteran around here. Been working this job for years. I've known her for ages. Do you, umm, know her?”

Vincent hummed his response, nodding his own head a little. “Do you know where she is?”

“I mean… she’s been at the hospital for a few days now,” the brown haired man replied. “That’s what my boss said. We’ve all been picking up her shifts again. This shit always happens to her...” The man cringed, realizing he had cursed in front of one of his “valued guests”.

“The hospital? Again?” Vincent didn’t understand.

“Yeah, man… Look, she’s still there as far as I know. She goes at least twice a year when something flares up, I don't know.” The employee shrugged, a little defeated.

Vincent turned and got back onto his motorcycle. He had enough information for now. It was time to find Leya.

  
  


Walking into the hospital had to be one of the hardest things Vincent had ever done. Sure, he had fought alongside an eco-terrorist group and had even killed people. He had seen blood and dismembered bodies, but nothing made him feel as weak as stepping into that hospital. Vincent couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about the way the whole place  _ felt _ made him nauseous. The smell of strong cleaning fluid and rubber gloves. The fluorescent lights beaming down on him. It was all so… artificial. It brought forth painful memories.

He took gut-wrenching steps up to the front counter and asked for Leya’s room number. The nurse checked the system and gave him the information he needed, including some simple directions. It wasn’t a large hospital… More of an infirmary really. Either way, part of Vincent was surprised when the nurse confirmed that Leya was in fact here.

He made his way down the hallway with a slow pace, braving his way through the uncomfortable aura that was suffocating him. Vincent wanted to leave, but he had made it this far. The least he could do was find Leya.

Turning a corner, he saw the row of patient rooms lined against the wall. He looked at each one before finally spotting the number the nurse had told him. Vincent approached the room, raised his hand to the door, and then froze.

What was he supposed to say to her? Would she even be conscious? Why was she here? Would his presence shock her? Scare her? Would she even remember him?

He tried his best to push those questions into the deepest corner of his mind before finally knocking on the door. He didn’t have time to be drowning in his own mind.

“Come in,” he heard through the door, a polite yet confused voice speaking.

Slowly, he opened the door, and there she was.

Sitting on the edge of the bed was the girl he had met a year prior. She looked just how he remembered and yet so different at the same time. Leya’s hair was usually bright, like gold shining in the sun, but it now had dulled. It was flat too and unkempt. Her skin, normally tan and warm from time spent outside, was paler and cooler in comparison. Not drastically, but enough to notice a difference. Maybe it was just the damned fluorescent lights playing a trick. She wasn’t wearing any of her regular attire, but had on a patient’s gown, fastened in the back. And her eyes… Vincent could have sworn before they were blue, but without a doubt, they were gray, like a depressing, overcast sky.

“Vincent,” she breathed, standing up immediately. Leya moved as if to hug him, but stopped herself, crossing her arms over her chest instead. “What the… How did you know I was here? Why are you here?”

A nurse in the room with the pair looked back and forth between them before ultimately saying they would come back in a minute and left the room. When the door shut behind them, Vincent sighed.

“I…” Where to even begin?

“I wanted to come visit like promised. You weren’t home. One of your coworkers said you were here.” Vincent hoped that was a sufficient explanation.

“R-Right…” Leya’s gaze darted between looking at Vincent and literally anything else in the room, her feet, the diagrams on the walls, her I.V., her hands, anything.

“Why are you here?” Vincent asked in return, stealing her question. “Are you… okay?”

Leya sat back down on the hospital bed, the sheets crinkling underneath her weight. “You should sit,” she replied, gesturing for him to take a chair up against the wall by the door.

He obeyed and waited.

“I’m… just so surprised to see you,” she started, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s been, what? A year?” Leya let out an exasperated laugh. “Of all days to come back, you picked one of the worst ones.”

Vincent chose not to respond, still waiting for the answer to his question.

“Right… um, I got really sick a few days ago,” Leya began to explain. “I actually have, uh, an autoimmune disorder. It’s hereditary. My mom had it too. My parents moved out here when they were newlyweds to take advantage of the clean air.” She paused, twiddling her thumbs in her lap. “But this is about me, not her. Because of this disease, I, uh, have a really weak immune system and can get dangerously sick if I’m not careful. I felt really bad at the beginning of the week, so I checked myself in here to make sure I was fine. I wasn’t… and they’ve kept me here ever since, waiting for me to recover.”

“What kind of disorder?” he asked in reply, still not entirely sure what she was dealing with.

“My body’s immune system basically attacks the healthy cells instead of the sick ones. I can get really sick by just having a cold,” Leya explained a little further. “I’m, uh… I’m probably not going to live as long as normal, healthy people. I’d be lucky to live through my 30s.” The last part was delivered with another awkward chuckle, but the news hit with no lightness at all.

Vincent wasn’t sure what to say. If he was being honest, he didn’t want to think about it, to accept it. This girl was dying and he was going to live forever. No. He couldn’t dwell on it now. He didn’t want to start spiraling again.

“When are you leaving the hospital?” he finally asked, daring to make eye contact with her.

“O-Oh,” she replied nervously. “They were actually just going to check if I was ready to be released. It should only be a few minutes.”

Vincent stood up, satisfied with her response.

“I can give you a ride back into town, back to your house,” he told her, his words coming across more as a command than a suggestion. “I’ll meet you outside the hospital when you’re ready.”

“R-Right. Thank you, Vincent,” Leya tried to say, but he was already making his way out of the room and down the hall, not waiting to hear what else she had to say. 

Vincent’s head was spinning. The combination of the atrocious hospital atmosphere and Leya’s strange news left him whirling. He focused all of his energy on putting one foot in front of the other, not caring if he ran into someone on his way out of the hospital. He only had one concern. He finally crossed the threshold back outside into the cool nighttime air, and when the door closed behind him, he gasped, a weight lifted off of his shoulders.

“Dammit,” he muttered. Had he been holding his breath the whole time he was in there? Vincent couldn’t confirm or deny it.

He walked over a few feet away from the door to the building and leaned up against the wall. More waiting… The last thing he wanted. He couldn’t bear to be alone with his thoughts right now. He wanted to go for a ride or walk around to clear his head but he told Leya he would wait, so wait he did.

After what felt like an eternity, the door to the infirmary opened and Leya emerged, fully dressed in her own clothes. She had cleaned up a little, but still looked as tired and disheveled as she had been inside. When their eyes met, she smiled at him. It was a comforting sight.

“Vincent,” she greeted, stepping over to where he stood. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

“It’s fine,” he responded, shrugging off her concerns for now. “Let’s get you home.”

He led her over to where his motorcycle was parked, getting on and roaring the mechanical beast to life. Leya hesitated before hopping on behind him. She fidgeted in place for a moment, trying to push herself away from him ever so slightly. Vincent could tell she was uncomfortable.

“Hold on to me,” he instructed her. “We’ll be there soon enough.”

Slowly, Leya leaned in and linked her arms around Vincent’s waist, fastening her hands in the front. When she felt secure, Vincent took off, beginning the drive back into the residential area of Costa del Sol.

A small part of Vincent was worried that he would space out like he had been doing the past few days, but something about having Leya’s presence behind him kept him focused. He wasn’t in control of just his life but hers too. It made him more cautious with the way he drove.

In a few minutes, they pulled up to Leya's quaint home. Vincent parked the bike by the curb again and waited for Leya to get off first. She clumsily slid herself off the seat and waited by the bike. When Vincent didn’t get off and join her in the street, she moved around to the front so she could see him face to face.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

It seemed like a dumb question in Vincent’s opinion. He was on his bike… about to ride into town.

“I need to go downtown,” he responded. “I should go see if the inn has any beds left.”

“Wait!” Leya shouted, raising her hands in protest. “Listen… If you’re here in town just to see me, then the least I can do is offer my guest bedroom to you.”

Vincent peered into her eyes, uncertain how he felt about her proposition.

“Really, Vincent. I’m serious,” she added, trying to persuade him. “Don’t waste your money on getting a room in the inn when I have a place for you to stay for free. It’s no trouble.”

He would have preferred some time to think things over, but with her staring right at him with her big, round eyes, he caved in and decided to indulge the young woman.

“Fine,” Vincent finally responded, turning the key in his bike and pulling it out of ignition. He got off and looked down at Leya. She was beaming with delight. It was kind of… nice to see her look happy again.

She hustled up to the door, fumbling through her bag as she looked for her key. He followed closely behind her, bringing his own small bag of things from off of his bike. He liked to travel light, but there were some things he had to take with him.

When the door finally opened, Leya skipped inside, flipping on the lights as she kicked off her shoes by the front door. Vincent wasn’t a good judge of style by any means, but the place seemed cozy. There were a lot of plants, blankets, and pillows, and all of the decorations were cohesively vibrant. It seemed like a fitting place for the bubbly girl to live.

“Right, um, so the bedrooms are just upstairs, so if you’ll follow me,” Leya said to him, turning her head back to look at him.

He nodded, taking a step into the house and closing the door behind him. The two walked through most of the downstairs portion of the home, passing by the living room, kitchen, and dining room on their way to the stairs. Once on the second floor, Leya stood off to the right side of the hallway and pointed to a door on the left side at the end of the hall. 

“That’s the guest room right there,” she told him. “There’s a bathroom attached so you don’t have to worry about sharing with me, haha. Oh, and the closet is free to use if you need it. Some of my dad’s old things might be in there, but it’s mostly empty. If you have any questions, this is my room, so feel free to come find me and ask,” Leya explained, gesturing at the end to a door close by her.

“Right. Thanks,” Vincent responded, walking past her and over to the guest bedroom’s entrance.

“Goodnight, Vincent,” Leya said before he opened the door. They made brief eye contact, neither one of them sure how they should be acting in this scenario.

“Goodnight,” he replied, attempting a small smile.

Vincent could have sworn he saw some redness on his hostess’ cheeks as she looked at him one last time. Leya waved timidly, giving a final goodbye before slipping into her own bedroom.

Stepping into his own temporary room, Vincent let out a half sigh, half laugh. Maybe… He wasn’t the only person who was a mess. And oddly enough, that was a comfort to Vincent. Maybe making this spontaneous visit would be a really good decision for him. Only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of firsts for me! First time writing in Vincent's point of view and the first time writing over four thousand words for just ONE chapter! Go me, haha!
> 
> Some things to note, I chose to keep Leya's illness vague for the sake of the story. I didn't want to complicate things by trying to follow a strict diagnosis. However, if I do ever portray her general autoimmune disease inaccurately, let me know and I am willing to make adjustments, now and in the future. In the end though, this isn't a medical drama striving for accuracy. This story is about fluffy comfort times between two hurt adults.
> 
> Overall, I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you SO MUCH for reading it! Until next time. :)


	6. Family Recipes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leya tries to surprise Vincent with an elaborate home cooked meal as a sign of her appreciation.

Leya was surprised how smoothly things had gone the past few days after arriving home from the hospital with her mysterious plus one. The worry-wart side of her mind had warned her that things could be awkward at her house while they both adjusted to each other’s company, but, in reality, things had become a new normal faster than Leya had expected. Most of her daily routines were unaffected by Vincent’s presence, especially in the morning. 

The first morning after coming home, Leya awoke frantically, not able to find Vincent in the house and afraid that he had run off in the middle of the night. She searched for him high and low, even asking people around town if they had seen him, only for him to come strolling back into her house later in the afternoon. After that ordeal, Leya learned quickly that Vincent valued his alone time. The mornings were a time where he liked to get away to go do whatever he did (Leya didn’t know what he was up to) and that didn’t bother her. It gave her plenty of space to get ready in solitude like she was used to.

The first few afternoons, they had kept things very casual between them. Leya was still off of work for a few more days while she fully recuperated, so it meant that she was home alone with Vincent all day. One afternoon, they both read in the living room, enjoying their own books with a glass of mint lemonade. Another evening, Leya pulled out her sketchbook to draw while Vincent (reluctantly?) made some phone calls to some of his... friends? It was hard to tell who he was talking to, to be honest, but she figured that it was someone he  _ liked _ , versus, a boring work phone call for example.

Now that a few days had passed and Leya was feeling almost back to complete strength, she was determined to make the most of their next evening together by cooking a magnificent meal. She planned it all out in her mind and began preparations as soon as possible. She went to get groceries that morning, stocking up on a wide range of items ranging from fish to tomatoes to wine. Leya was pretty sure she knew what she wanted to cook for Vincent, but just in case, she got extra items as well. Besides, anything she didn’t use today could be used for another meal in the following week.

Now that it was the afternoon, Leya was ready to begin preparing her dish. She thought she could  _ really _ surprise Vincent if she made oven-baked fish, homemade herbed rice, sauteed zucchini and squash, and finally, fresh baked bread. It was… a lot admittedly, but Leya knew it would all be worth it to see the look on Vincent’s face when he ate her delicious cooking!

One by one, she pulled the ingredients out of the pantry and fridge, spreading them across her kitchen counters in a chaotic attempt at creating order. The more components she pulled out, the more she struggled to get similar items next to each other until eventually, she couldn’t even see the countertops anymore. Leya stood in the middle of her kitchen, arm full of zucchini and eyes frantically searching for a place to set them down, but there was no available space.

Just then, the front door to Leya’s home opened. Her gaze immediately turned towards the front of the house, and she saw Vincent step inside (not that she was expecting any other company) and close the door politely behind him. The open layout of the first floor of the house betrayed Leya in her moment of panic. She was caught red handed, her surprise ruined.

“Vincent! H-Hey!” She greeted him from the kitchen, her eyes darting back and forth between him and her countertops, still desperate for a spot for the zucchini.

“What are you doing?” he asked, choosing to skip formalities. Taking a few long steps, Vincent was now in the kitchen as well, surveying the plethora of ingredients displayed all around him.

“I was, uhh, going to cook something for you. For us! Um, right. For dinner. For us both,” she explained, oddly nervous. Leya could feel Vincent’s eyes glaring at both her and the produce in her arms. “This zucchini is very important, but I can’t seem to find a place for it,” she admitted.

“You need all of this—” He gestured at the clutter all over the counters. “—for dinner? For one meal?”

“Yes…” Leya sighed, finally accepting her defeat. She stepped over to the empty sink and dropped the vegetables in there, relieving her arms. “I was going to cook you this big fancy dinner but you came home earlier than I expected and spoiled the surprise.”

“Fancy? For me?” Vincent stared at her like she was crazy. “Leya, you were released from the hospital a few days ago.”

“I know… I know, but—”

“But, you need to be taking things easy. This isn’t the time to cook anything  _ fancy _ .”

Leya’s gaze fell down to her bare feet, feeling like a scorned child. He was right… but it still hurt to have her efforts wasted. She really wanted to treat him to a delicious home cooked meal. Surely it was the least she could do after how he handled her the other day at the hospital.

Leya had been mulling over those unexpected events in her mind ever since the motorcycle ride home. What had shocked her even more than Vincent showing up in Costa del Sol out of nowhere was his lack of a response to her grim news. It wasn’t every day that she told someone she was chronically ill, but when she did finally reveal her secret, Leya was used to getting a sizable reaction out of people. But Vincent… He hadn’t really said anything about it, had he? Leya recalled how he scrambled out of her hospital room as soon as she was done speaking, offering to give her a ride home and saying little else. That, and his silence on the matter ever since that evening, was all she had to go on.

While his lack of an obvious reaction had Leya worried, part of her was immensely thankful that he had not freaked out or gotten angry like she expected he might. She had offered her house as a temporary place to stay as a way to say thank you for Vincent’s actions (or lack thereof), but it didn’t feel like enough. She wanted this meal to be another gift to him.

“But I want to make something special,” Leya tried to explain to him. “For you.”

“You don’t have to,” he replied, arms crossed against his chest. “Really. I barely eat anyway.”

She repeated herself. “But I want to, and frankly, you can’t change my mind.”

He scoffed a little, seemingly amused at her attempt at putting her foot down.

“Fine,” Vincent conceded quickly. “But let's make something with fewer ingredients. It looks like a battlefield in here.”

Leya beamed, not able to hide her satisfaction in getting her way. Sure, she was an only child and was pretty much used to getting her way, but still. She strongly believed that she was in the right on this matter.

“Something simpler…” She began to think of the recipes she knew, hoping to remember a dish that was delicious and impressive yet easy enough to make to satisfy Vincent’s desires. Soon enough, one of her mother’s old recipes came to mind. 

“Alright!” Leya began, clasping her hands together as she began to survey the ingredients scattered around her kitchen. “Let’s pick out what we need from this mess and put away the rest.”

“What are we making?” Vincent asked, standing up straight.

“We?” Surely he didn’t intend on helping her, right? He was her guest.

“Yes. I don’t cook often, but I can be directed as you see fit,” he responded, his tone as serious as ever. The man never seemed to be disingenuous.

Leya knew she had already won one battle tonight. She’d let him win this one for now.

“Sure! If that’s what you want,” she replied. “We’re going to make gazpacho, so we’ll need tomatoes, cucumber, bell pepper, onion, and… oh! Bread!”

Turning to face one of the countertops, Leya looked at the ingredients sprawled about and started scooping up the ones irrelevant to their new recipe. As she began to put them back in their places in the pantry and fridge, Vincent did his best to follow her lead. She could tell he was out of his element, but it didn’t seem to slow him down too much.

Once the kitchen was cleared of the mess Leya had created moments earlier, she took a deep breath, ready to begin cooking. First, she pulled out her cutting board and two knives and placed them next to the small pile of ingredients they would need for their dish. She directed Vincent to start cutting up some cucumber while she began to slice the bell peppers and remove the seeds from the inside. They stood side by side, working in tandem.

“What is gazpacho?” Vincent asked, not looking up from his task.

“It’s a popular dish here in Costa del Sol,” Leya informed him. “Especially during the summer time. It’s a chilled tomato soup, and it’s so refreshing! It’s one of my mom’s old recipes.” Just thinking about her family’s home cooked delights made Leya smile from cheek to cheek.

“Hmm,” he hummed in reply. As he finished up his work on the cucumber, he added, “Where is your mother?”

“She passed away when I was young… from the same condition I have. I don’t have a ton of memories of her, but I know that she always loved cooking.” The answer wasn’t a solemn one, but instead full of bittersweet feelings, Leya was thankful for what she did have. Her mother lived on in her recipes.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Leya reassured him, handing him an onion to start chopping up. “It happened a long time ago.”

“And your father?”

“He lives in Midgar. Even after the meteor, it was easier for him to find a good paying job there than here. We, uh, have a lot of bills to pay…” Leya explained, finishing her work on the peppers.

Vincent said nothing more, supposedly satisfied with her responses.

With all of the ingredients prepared, Leya pulled out her blender from one of her cabinets and plugged it into the wall. Starting with the whole roma tomatoes she had bought earlier today, she began to dump all of the ingredients into the blender, including the produce Vincent had helped cut. After adding in a few final touches like olive oil, sherry vinegar, garlic, and cumin, she placed the lid on the blender and switched the machine on, commanding it to come to life. It made a passionate whirring sound as it ground up the different elements and smoothly blended them together. After a few minutes of blending, Leya stopped the machine, satisfied with the apparent consistency of their soup. She grabbed a glass container from another cabinet, poured the soup inside it, topped the bowl with a lid, and stuck it in the refrigerator to chill.

Pleased with her work thus far, Leya moved to sit in the living room, deciding to leave the dishes for Future Leya to clean. Vincent followed suit, taking a seat on the opposite end on the couch from her. Now that they had some down time while the soup properly chilled, Leya figured she could ask a few questions of her own in return.

“What about your family?” Leya began the conversation, picking up from where they had left off minutes ago.

“I don’t have any. Not anymore,” he replied. “My father passed away a long time ago.” In typical Vincent fashion, the tone of his voice didn’t reveal any of his feelings on the matter. However, he moved his hands to his lap as he responded, twiddling his thumbs slightly as he spoke. Leya wondered if this was a sore subject for him.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she responded, not sure how else to comfort her strange house guest.

“Like I said, it was a long time ago. I’ve grieved and managed to move on,” Vincent explained. 

“I understand.” Truly, Leya of all people did understand. She had experienced death and now had a close relationship with it.

“Um… let’s move on to a happier note,” she suggested, transitioning into a new conversation. She hopped around for a second on the couch as she pulled her legs up into a criss cross position, careful to reposition her skirt to keep herself appropriately covered. Leya looked so comfortable compared to Vincent who sat on the couch stiffly, feet firmly planted on the floor.

“What is your favorite food to eat?” she asked, beaming over at him with her large gray eyes.

“Hmm,” he hummed as he thought, staring off into space. “I don’t have a favorite really.”

  
Leya refused to believe that.

“Come on…!” she whined, picking up a throw pillow from beside her and playfully hitting Vincent in his side with it. She couldn’t help but giggle. “There has to be  _ something _ you like more than everything else. A preference? Please? What is it?”

He visibly rolled his eyes at her but didn’t choose to stop her from smacking him with the small pillow. Sitting for a moment, Vincent pondered, actually putting forth some effort as he thought of what meal he liked to eat the most.

“Well,” he began, finally prepared to answer. “I definitely like red meat the most… Anything beef is usually good. I remember one time Tifa made a pot roast for us back at the 7th Heaven. That was really good.”   
  
“Tifa?” Leya repeated. She hadn’t heard him talk about anyone else in his life by name before. Her interest was piqued.

“She’s a teammate… and friend,” Vincent answered. “She owns a bar in Edge called the 7th Heaven.”

“Oh…! Cool.” 

In all honesty, Leya wasn’t sure how to feel about the newly gathered information. Would it be okay to pry more? The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she didn’t know Vincent very well… at all. She had gotten some surface-level introductory info out of him when they met a year ago, but no real sense of his past, of who he was as a person. Surely others would call her foolish for letting an almost stranger live in her home indefinitely, but Leya trusted Vincent despite not knowing him very well. She couldn’t quite describe her reasons why. He just had a trusting soul. She was comfortable in his presence.

“What do you like?” Vincent asked, cutting Leya off from her long train of thought.

“Me? My favorite food?” It took her a second to get her mind back on track. Right. They had been talking about food. “I really like grilled salmon,” Leya answered quickly. “Simple, but when it's fresh and seasoned correctly? Absolutely delicious.”

He nodded his head, listening to her response.

“Vincent?” Leya spoke up.

Their eyes met.

“Can I ask you about your teammates? About… your job?” She couldn’t help but steer the conversation towards where her mind was left wandering. “I’ll answer anything you want to ask me in return.”

He was silent for a moment before nodding his head once more, giving her the green light.

“How big is your team? How long have you been working together? Do they all live in Midgar? What do you guys do exactly? Are you allowed to say?”

That had probably been more of a bombardment than a polite questionnaire, but oh well. Leya couldn’t contain her curiosity. She could recall that he said a year ago that he helped people for a living but had left it at that. What kind of man with a gun strapped to his leg casually helps people for a living? With a group of people?

“We’re retired now, but there’s a good handful of us. Almost a dozen,” Vincent started, finally leaning back a bit into the couch as he answered each question. “We’ve been working together for a few years. I joined later than others, unlike Tifa. She was one of the first involved. They’re not all in Midgar, though many are. Yuffie is from Wutai, I know that.”

He paused.

“As far as what we do, we’re ecoterrorists.”

_ Um… what? _

Leya blinked slowly, staring at Vincent with a baffled expression. He turned away from her, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know. Sounds scary, right?” He let out a faint chuckle. “I worked for AVALANCHE, the group responsible for stopping Shinra from killing the planet. When they finally learned to stop fucking things up, I left Midgar to travel around and help random people.”

“AVALANCHE? Like… the ones… and the meteor?” Leya heaved a sigh. “That was you?”

He nodded.

The room fell silent. What was Leya supposed to think about that response? What were the appropriate feelings to have right now? Should she be angry that he didn’t tell her this sooner? Scared about having a terrorist in her house? Relieved that Vincent was finally opening up? Happy about him being someone who fought for a righteous cause? She wasn’t sure for once.

“Are you… upset?” Vincent spoke up.

She could feel his gaze peering into her.

“No,” she replied softly, looking down at her hands in her lap. “I asked. You answered. I should have prepared myself for any type of reply.”

“Do you… want me to leave?”

Their eyes met once again. Leya noted a new expression on his face. For the first time, he seemed… sad. The way his eyes bore into her, she could sense his uneasiness.

“No. Never,” she answered immediately.

“Never?” he repeated.

“I mean—”  _ SHIT _ . She needed to backpedal  _ fast _ . “Um, right. I mean, of course not. You can totally stay here as long as you want,” Leya said in an attempt to smooth over her slip up. “Why, uh, why did you think I would want you to leave?”

“You’re a normal citizen. It can be scary for normal people to have someone like me in their lives,” Vincent explained, seeming to ignore her little slip of the tongue. Now he was the one who wouldn’t look at her. They both struggled to make eye contact.

“But… I like having you in my life,” she admitted softly, regaining some of her comfortability. “It’s nice. You’re really nice.”

Vincent stood up abruptly from the couch, taking a few steps towards the kitchen before stopping.

“Thank you,” he murmured, almost inaudible. It wasn’t like him to speak so quietly. If he had something to say, he said it. If not, he kept completely silent. This new in between didn’t feel in character for him.

Leya smiled a bit, getting up from the couch too.

“Come on, my scary friend,” she teased, gesturing for him to follow her. “Let’s have some soup.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a turn I wasn't really expecting, but that sort of thing happens when you write mostly stream of consciousness style like I do, haha. Of course, I go into each chapter with a destination in mind. Sometimes the journey is just a little different.
> 
> Anyway, I sincerely hope that you enjoyed the update and THANK YOU for reading!
> 
> If you would like to see my artwork of Leya and Vincent, you can check me out on Twitter (@katiekat_artist) and Instagram (@katiekatartist).


	7. Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent realizes too little too late that he's run out of clothes to wear. After doing laundry, he decides that buying some new clothes downtown with Leya should be an appropriate solution to his problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY Y'ALL.  
> As of posting this chapter, the FFVII Remake (part one) has just come out, and I've been binge playing it almost nonstop. It has fueled me with so much inspiration and motivation to write, so expect this story to keep updating!  
> I hope that you guys are enjoying the remake. I know I am (even if Vincent isn't in it... lol).  
> Anyway, on with the chapter!

_This is ridiculous._

_No way. There’s no way._

Vincent stood in front of the guest bedroom closet, appalled by the cacophony of colors and patterns displayed on the different shirts hanging up inside. 

How could he have been so foolish? Of course he would run out of things to wear eventually. He just wasn’t used to having other people around him when he ran out of clothes. Normally he’d do his laundry in whatever remaining undergarments he had clean until he had something to wear again, but with Leya around… Vincent shuddered at the thought.

For now, he would have to borrow something from Leya’s father’s wardrobe. Unfortunately, there weren’t any ideal options. The closet was sparse to begin with, but what was inside consisted of flamboyant, summery shirts and shorts, ideal for an afternoon down at the beach. Vincent could clearly imagine why Leya’s father had not taken any of these with him to Midgar. They were atrocious.

He flipped through the hangers, desperate for anything modest, anything dark in color, literally anything else. But to his dismay, there was nothing of the sort.

Heaving a monumental sigh, Vincent tugged one of the hellish shirts off of its hanger and began to slip it on. The fabric was a bright yellow color and patterned with a mix of flowers, palm trees, and leaves. The accent colors were neon pink and vibrant teal. It made Vincent want to puke.

Accepting his fate, he grabbed a pair of khaki shorts from the closet and tugged them on as well. Both garments were oversized on his lanky figure, but at least Vincent had a belt to help keep the pants on his waist. He knew he looked like a clown, but there was nothing else he could do about it. He had to make the journey downstairs to start a load of laundry and he wasn’t going to do it half naked.

Vincent left the bedroom with a pile of his clothes in his arms, avoiding his reflection in the vanity mirror on his way out. Maybe — if he was lucky — he wouldn’t run into Leya on his way to the laundry room. Yeah! He was a master of stealth after all. He could avoid her detection and then hide out in his room until his clothes were clean.

He made his way down the stairs one by one, so far fortunate enough to not cross paths with Leya. Where was she anyway? Vincent realized that he should have done reconnaissance first. Knowing her location before stepping into the open would have been ideal. Now he might run into her at any—

“Vincent!?” a voice bursted out across the house, accompanied by stifled laughter.

_Dammit…_

He turned around and saw Leya standing in the living room, her hand over her mouth. He didn’t have to see her full face to know that she was gasping in amused awe.

“I need to do laundry,” He explained reluctantly, taking slow backwards steps into the hallway that led to the laundry room.

“I can see that,” she chuckled, making her way over to him. “I’m glad that my dad left something behind for you to wear.”

“It’s not my preference, but it had to be done,” he responded, avoiding her gaze. 

He felt like a fool. Surely there had to be something he could do to prevent this in the future... 

_Of course, you idiot._ He knew just what needed to be done.

“I’ll go downtown tomorrow and buy some clothes so this doesn’t happen again, alright?” Vincent informed Leya, nodding his head as he agreed with his own plan. “I never want to look at this shirt ever again.”

Still trying to conceal her laughter, Leya followed Vincent into the laundry room, unable to take her eyes off of him. He could feel her staring, obviously amused at his suffering.

“Can I tag along?” she asked, hoping up onto the top of the dryer as he began to fill up the washing machine with his dirty garments.

“I don’t know why you would want to, but sure. I can’t stop you from accompanying me.”

Vincent grabbed the detergent off of a nearby shelf and began to pour out the appropriate amount of soap for his load of clothes. He poured the liquid in, closed the lid, and started the machine. When he turned to leave the room, his gaze lingered on Leya. She had an odd expression on her face… Her curled smile was a dead give away that she found his appearance entertaining, but the redness in her cheeks and the emotion in her eyes told Vincent something else was afoot. What exactly, he didn’t know. Maybe she was feeling secondhand embarrassment. Sure. That made sense, right? What else would it be?

“Alright!” she cheered, jumping down from her position on the dryer. “Let’s go first thing tomorrow.”

Vincent nodded, agreeing with her plan. Tomorrow, they would get clothes, but for now, Vincent wanted nothing more than to retreat to his room to take off the horrid floral shirt.

* * *

In the end, Vincent was incredibly grateful for Leya’s company throughout his clothes buying experience. He considered himself an independent and competent man, but the minute the pair stepped into the fashion district of Costa del Sol, he realized he was utterly useless when it came to the world of shopping.

Everything Vincent currently owned — his wardrobe, his guns, his bike — had all been purchases of necessity. He had gone into the store, bought what he needed and left without giving it a second thought. Buying clothes would be much different, especially with Leya around. Had he been on his own, he would have just bought five of the same long sleeve shirts and five of the same black pair of pants and called it a day. However, Leya had different plans for him.

She happily dragged him into the first store, her arm linked with his as she led him in and to the back of the store where the men’s clothes were. Most of the other men in the store had a similar expression to Vincent, disinterested and tired, but Leya was positively beaming by comparison.

Removing her arm from his, she grasped her hands together as she began to survey the racks of clothes, her excitement seemingly building.

“Okay, Vincent,” she started. “What kind of clothes do you like?”

“Um…” He didn’t know how to answer. Looking down at his own outfit (his usual get up, minus the cloak and armored pieces) and then looking around the store, all he knew to say was “Black? … and long? Long sleeves. Pants.”

“Right…” Leya’s voice trailed off as she replied. “I’d hate to see you in a pair of khaki shorts again.”

He couldn’t help but make eye contact with her and glare a bit. It was more of a jest than an actual display of annoyance. Leya seemed to understand his intent because she chuckled up at him in response.

“Yes. Let’s avoid shorts altogether,” Vincent said back, cracking a small smile.

The two of them began to walk through the men’s clothing section. Unfortunately for Vincent, a lot of the garments were suitable for vacation weather there in Costa del Sol. Almost everything was a bright color or exposed too much skin for his liking. On the rare occasion that they would find something like a black sweater, they would lift it up to examine it only to discover that it was cropped right above the navel or had holes in the shoulders. Still, when they had some luck, Leya would grab the promising item and hold onto it while they finished their search.

After a few minutes of looking around, Leya stopped, pleased with the selection they had to start with.

“Now it’s time to try things on,” she informed Vincent, gesturing towards the fitting room in the corner of the store. “Here!” Leya draped the pile of clothes she had been collecting over Vincent’s open arms.

“Try them on? Shouldn’t we just buy them and go back to your house?” He stared at her like she was crazy.

“No, silly!” Leya insisted, giving him a gentle push in the direction of the changing room. “We have to make sure they look good on you first.”

“Look good on me?”

“Of course! To make sure they fit you well and make you look handsome.”

Those definitely weren't things Vincent was used to. Proper fit? Most of his clothes had been whatever he could scrounge up or buy for a few hundred gil. Fit had never been a priority (besides, that was what belts were for, right?). And looking handsome? Vincent didn’t even know how to begin to think about that.

Still, he obeyed Leya and stepped inside the tiny stall to try on the clothes she had helped him pick out. As per his request, most of the things in his stack were black and modest in style. There were a few other items however that Leya had snuck in for him to try — to “mix it up” as she put it. Most were a different color than he would have felt comfortable picking out, but… He would try anything for Leya.

He quickly yet carefully slipped on a pair of black jeans and a plain long sleeved shirt. Vincent glanced at himself in the mirror. Sure, it wasn’t much to look at but it got the job done. When he was vaguely satisfied with what he saw, he started to take off the garments. Before he got too far though, he heard Leya’s excited voice coming from the rest of the store.

“Hey, Vincent?” she called out to him. “How’s it going in there? Why don’t you come out and show me what you've got on so far.”

It was a perplexing request for sure, but it wasn’t the first and Vincent doubted it would be the last from his unusual new friend. He chose to just sigh for a brief second before stepping outside of the fitting room to go find her, knowing that it was best to indulge in her wishes.

He found Leya sitting right outside the door. There were a few benches arranged in front of a lone mirror and she had made herself comfortable there. Vincent awkwardly stepped over, not sure what to do or expect from Leya.

“Oooooh, okay, okay,” she cooed, looking him up and down as he approached. “Can you do a little spin for me?”

When he obliged, Leya cooed once again, clapping her hands together for a second.

“Not bad, Mr. Valentine,” Leya complimented, smiling widely. “I think the shirt looks nice on you, so we should definitely get one or two of those if you like it too. The pants…?” She craned her neck to stare at his backside. “Maybe a little too tight. How do they feel?”

“Uh, fine, I guess,” he replied, turning his head to look back at her as she examined him. Something about the way her eyes scanned him sent small shivers up Vincent’s spine. What was she looking at anyway? Was there something on his back he couldn’t see? It made him oddly self conscious.

“Do they feel like they’re the right size? When was the last time you bought some pants? Do you remember your size?” Leya questioned him crossing her legs over one another as she shifted into a new position on the bench.

“The last time I bought pants…” The only thing that came to mind was when he had to buy a suit for his job as a Turk, not that he could tell Leya that. That had been almost forty years ago. Instead, he chose to say, “A long time ago, I was starting a new job and needed a suit. That’s all I can think of.”

“A suit?” Leya’s face visibly lightened. “What happened to it? You don’t still have it, do you?”

“No… I don’t know what happened to it, but I haven’t worked that job for a long time.”

Leya nodded, seemingly allowing her curiosity to be quenched for now. Though, Vincent noticed that she looked a little… dejected? He wasn’t sure why.

With that out of the way, Vincent went back into the dressing room to change into something else. He continued this same process and went through the rest of the stack one by one, trying on a new shirt and a new pair of pants and then modeling the combination for Leya. She always managed to react positively, even when she commented on something about the garment that could be better.

After more time than Vincent had ever imagined he would spend on buying clothes, he was finished trying on Leya’s recommendations. He left the dressing room with a stack of pants and shirts in his hands, all of them messily folded. Leya once again looked happy to see him with his haul.

“Well…?!” She questioned excitedly, hopping off her seat on the bench. “What styles did you prefer the most? What do you think you’ll buy?”  
  


Vincent probably looked like a deer in headlights to her. He has been so focused on the act of putting the clothes on, showing Leya, and then taking them off that he hadn’t really paid much mind to the different _styles_. 

“I… don’t know,” he answered honestly. “What do you think was the most suitable?”

Leya carefully took the clothes from his arms. Vincent watched — and listened — as she began to go through the items one by one, making different piles on the bench as she sorted through. Much to his surprise and amusement, she began to make commentary on her own actions as she worked.

“You looked kind of uncomfortable in these jeans, so that’s a no. This shirt fit you well and, ooh boy, that fabric was so soft, right? I thought the buckles and accents on these pants reminded me of your style, so you should definitely get those… Oh! And this sweater was cool too,” she rambled on, talking her way through her decisions.

Satisfied with her sorting, Leya picked up one of the piles and handed it to Vincent. He was baffled by her ability to half his load and supposedly get to the cream of the crop. He thought all of the clothes she had initially picked out would suffice, but with her second round of input, he shockingly felt more pleased with what he would end up buying today.

“Thank you,” Vincent spoke up, genuinely appreciative of her help today.

She smiled, though he noticed that she was avoiding making eye contact. Were her cheeks a little red too? Maybe she was getting overheated in this store. Vincent concluded that they should leave as soon as possible.

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “Really. It’s not a big deal.”

They began to walk over to the register, ready to check out and buy Vincent’s new goods.

“But,” he responded, “I would have been lost without your assistance.”

“Oh… well, thanks! My pleasure.”

They approached the counter together, but Leya soon took a step back, her grip tightening slightly on the strap of her bag crossed against her body.

“That should do for some new clothes, don’tcha think? But if you need some more socks or underwear, there’s a good place down the street,” Leya spoke, face still flushed. “Surely you don’t need my help with that.”

Vincent skipped a beat, his brain trying to process what she had said. That was a joke, right? Should he laugh? He didn’t feel like laughing. He felt… like a fish out of water, flopping around desperately. Why did he feel that way?

“Right,” he managed to choke out, his throat oddly tight. “I can do that on my own.”

It was now his turn in the check-out line. Before stepping up to the cashier, he turned to look at Leya one last time.

“I’ll see you back at the house?” He questioned, though the answer was obvious.

Leya made eye contact with him finally, her face soft and kind in its usual way. That expression had become a comforting sight over the past week or so that he had been staying with her. He couldn’t help but attempt a smile back at her.

“Of course!” she cheered. “I wouldn’t want anything else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is fairly short and absolutely silly, but I hope that you enjoyed it regardless. My good friend (themostcleverandwittyname here on AO3) helped me create Hawaiian shirt Vincent, and it's honestly SUCH a hilarious image to me.  
> Thanks for reading this chapter and keeping up with this story! Stay tuned for the next update. It's going to be an eventful one. ;)


	8. Unwelcomed Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent wakes up in the middle of the night to some unexpected house guests. Little does he know, their presence will cause tension for him and Leya.

Much to Vincent’s surprise, he had been sleeping better than usual since arriving at Leya’s house. It wasn’t a huge improvement — he was basically an insomniac — but it was something. Most nights, when Leya went to bed, he went back to his room to read or clean his guns. When he felt tired enough, he would try to sleep, usually only getting in a few hours at best. Nightmares or his general lack of fatigue usually prevented him from resting more than that. If he woke up in the middle of the night, he might go for a small walk or ride, but the thought of Leya waking up to him being gone made him stop. In the end, the sun would rise and Vincent would leave to get some coffee and spend some time alone.

However, tonight wasn’t the usual sequence of events for Vincent. He had managed to fall asleep but was stirred awake by the sound of… something. As he rose from his groggy state, he tried to pinpoint what the sound was.

Rubbing his eyes quickly, he shifted off of the bed and got up, immediately heading for his guns stashed in the closet. After mulling it over for a few seconds, he concluded that the sound he had heard must have been broken glass. He couldn’t think of many reasons for there to be broken glass except for if there was a potential break-in.

As he made his way over to the bedroom door, his body now functioning on high alert with his gun in hand, he hesitated. What if Leya had just woken up and gone downstairs for a glass of water and broke something? Upon further reflection, it did seem like a more likely scenario than a break-in. Unfortunately, Vincent was already on edge and he didn’t want to risk his or Leya’s lives.

Turning the doorknob open, he came up with a quick plan. He would check in Leya’s room first to see if she was there. If she wasn't, then bingo! She had to be downstairs cleaning up one of her clumsy accidents. But, if she was in her bedroom, no glass of water in sight, then they had a bigger problem on their hands.

With quiet, calculated steps, Vincent approached Leya’s bedroom door. He kept his ears open as he made his way down the hall, hoping to hear anything that would give him a clue as to which scenario they were faced with; unfortunately, the house was eerily silent. He couldn’t make out the sounds of Leya cleaning or intruders making their way into the house.

Now in front of Leya’s room, he paused for a final moment to listen for anything else before opening the door silently and stepping inside. Much to his dismay, Leya was asleep on her bed, her blankets tossed around her in a messy pile. She was curled up on one side of the bed, a pillow in her arms. It felt wrong to see her in such a vulnerable state, but this wasn’t the time to be modest. They had a problem on their hands.

Stepping over to Leya, Vincent gave her a few gentle nudges with his free hand.

“Leya,” he whispered. “Leya, wake up.”

She reluctantly stirred to life, slowly opening her eyes and stretching out of her ball-like position. When she finally was coherent enough to notice Vincent standing there, she jumped, startled by his presence.

“Ssh! Leya. Listen to me,” he commanded, his voice quiet yet stern. “I think someone has broken into the house.”

She stared at him with wide eyes, her arms moving to wrap around herself in an attempt to feel comforted.

“The safest thing for you to do is stay directly behind me while we search the house,” Vincent informed her. “If someone is here, I can deal with them. But if we’re separated, I can’t watch over you. Understood?”

Leya nodded hesitantly. Vincent could tell she was obviously frightened.

“Come here.” 

He reached his hand out for her to take and she gladly accepted it. She was surprisingly warm, but shaking ever so slightly. Vincent had to take a second to remind himself that Leya wasn’t a member of AVALANCHE. She hadn’t been under immense amounts of dangerous pressure before. She hadn't been in a fight before. She was nothing more than a normal citizen, the kind of person Vincent and all of AVALANCHE swore to protect alongside the planet. He was here to protect her.

Helping her off the bed, the two carefully made their way over to the door, Vincent gesturing with his finger for them to both be silent. He could finally start to hear some shuffling coming from downstairs. It was faint, but he picked up on the sound nonetheless.

Now directly behind the closed bedroom door, Vincent turned back to lock eyes with Leya. She still had the same scared expression.

“Stay behind me, okay? I will protect you,” he spoke, trying his best to comfort her, though it wasn’t usually in his nature to be calming. That seemed to be her expertise.

She nodded her head once again, too scared to speak.

He hummed softly, turning his attention back to the door in front of them. Vincent could hear footsteps starting up the staircase. Without a doubt, they had unwelcomed company. He raised his gun, prepared himself, and then turned the door open.

Unmistakably creeping up the stairs were two Shinra security officers armed with guns. Vincent couldn’t immediately see any other soldiers, so he focused his attention to taking these two out swiftly and efficiently.

Gun loaded and raised, Vincent aimed directly at the farther officer’s knee, taking a clean shot directly at it. He prided himself on never missing and tonight was no exception. The bullet landed exactly where he intended, sending the guard straight to the floor as he cried out in pain.

With one man down in a matter of seconds, Vincent launched himself towards the second. Normally, he would act with his guns first, fists later, but with Leya in such close proximity, he wanted to spare her the extra trauma of watching a man get shot (and spare her hallway the extra bloodstains). Instead, as Vincent quickly approached the surprised guard, he took the butt of his gun and hit the man across his head, using the full force of his strength. Being superhuman had its perks afterall. The second guard went down as easily as the first, completely knocked out. 

With both targets down for the count, Vincent kicked their guns out of reach before turning to check in with Leya behind him. He had heard her squeal when he shot the first man but obviously didn’t have the time to turn back and look at her. Her face had clearly paled as she looked back and forth between the two men on the floor and Vincent.

“W-Who…” She started to speak, but her voice left her.

“They’re guards for Shinra,” Vincent explained. “I’ve seen my share, so trust me.”

He watched her nod solemnly as she took in what he said. Her hands awkwardly shifted from her sides to the hem of her shirt as she began to fidget with the edge of the fabric.

“Come here,” he commanded, trying once more to be gentle to her. “We need to check downstairs for more intruders.”

He waited for her to take the first tentative step forward before turning back towards the stairs and leading their descent. In one hand, he held his gun, raised and ready to aim at a moment’s notice. With his free arm, he reached out to keep Leya behind him, using his limb as a makeshift shield. It wasn’t much but it would have to do for now.

As their feet left the last step of the staircase and they officially entered the ground floor of Leya’s house, Vincent could immediately see who the culprit of their nightly invasion was. Perched in a chair at the kitchen island bar just a few yards away was Tseng, the leader of Shinra’s Turks. Vincent recognized him from his time with AVALANCHE, their paths having crossed once before.

“Well, well,” the raven haired man began. “You took care of that distraction even faster than I imagined. That is truly promising.”

“What do you want?” Vincent snapped, already irritated by the man’s presence.

Behind him, Vincent could feel Leya’s hands grasp hold of his shirt as she began to cower. He knew that she had to be absolutely terrified. That thought alone gave him the courage to stand tall in front of the Shinra pawn.

With slow steps, Vincent approached the Turk, making sure Leya was secured behind him.

“Right to the point I see,” Tseng replied. “I appreciate that sentiment. Though, I am curious who your hostess is. Would you care to introduce me?”

Vincent refused to answer, his aim unwavering as he pointed his gun towards the intruder. He was never the type to play games. Leya on the other hand dared to poke her head out from behind Vincent, a part of her curious to see who Vincent was talking to. As the two made eye contact, Tseng grinned ever so slightly.

“A girl? Vincent Valentine, I didn’t think you were—”

“Shut up and tell me why the hell you’re here,” Vincent interrupted, taking another step closer to assert his seriousness.

“Shinra is looking to recuperate,” Tseng began to explain, complying to Vincent’s urgent request. As he spoke, he picked up an apple from a pile on the bar and toyed with it in his hands. “They’ve been on the downward slope ever since the meteor four years ago, and AVALANCHE keeps making sure it stays that way, though, you already know that I suppose.”

The Turk paused.

“We want to give you your old job, Vincent Valentine. Let you work as a Turk once again. Your skills would be vital to our expansion plans.”

“No,” Vincent replied immediately. “I’d never go back. Not to Shinra.”

“Hmm, as I suspected,” Tseng admitted, not making even a single attempt at persuading Vincent to change his mind. He placed the apple down on the counter before getting off of the chair. The whole time, Vincent had his eyes glued to him.

“It’s a shame, really,” he added, the tone of his voice changing to something more mischievous. “After forty years, you are still the skilled fighter your report says you are. It is quite the achievement. You will be missed among our ranks.”

Vincent’s heart nearly stopped. Had Leya heard the bastard say that?

Tseng smirked once again, noting the panic setting in on Vincent’s face.

Just then, the two Shinra officers from earlier shuffled down the stairs, the uninjured one supporting the other with his arm. They had their guns strapped to their sides, and their expressions were enough of a sign that they wanted to retreat in peace, scared of incurring Vincent’s wrath again. As they stepped towards the front door, Tseng started to follow suit.

Before the three intruders left, however, Tseng turned back to the pair still standing in the kitchen.

“I’ll be back again, Vincent Valentine, and Shinra won’t take no for an answer twice. Consider this a warning,” he informed him.

His gaze shifted to Leya poking out from behind Vincent’s lanky frame. “And, Cattleya,” Tseng began. “I’d be more careful about what sort of monsters you let into your home.”

With his damage done, Tseng and the guards left without another word. As the door closed behind them, it was hard to believe that they had even broken in in the first place. The only signs of a struggle were the broken window in the corner of the dining room and any bloodstains Vincent’s gun might have caused upstairs.

Heaving a premature sigh of relief, Vincent lowered his gun, finally releasing the built-up tension in his body. He slowly felt Leya’s fingers uncurl from the fabric of his shirt as she took a few steps back. Vincent set his gun down on the kitchen counter before turning around to look at Leya. Her gaze was off to the side, her whole body still shivering from the experience.

“Listen, Leya, I’m sorry that—”

“What did he mean?” Leya cut him off, her voice rattling in her throat. “What did he mean by ‘after forty years’? You could barely pass for a 30 year old. And… You-you worked for Shinra? And that man knew my name? I-I… I don’t understand, Vincent.”

“Let’s sit down,” he responded back, gesturing over to the couches in the living room.

Just a few days ago, they had sat in that very spot and had an honest and pleasant conversation about themselves before enjoying a delicious dinner. Vincent had a visceral gut feeling that this time, things would not be so jovial.

They both took a seat on the sofa. Leya had pushed herself up against one end, her hands clasped in her lap and her head hung low, while Vincent turned his body towards her as he began to speak, desperate to make things right with her. 

He couldn’t explain to himself why he felt so awful inside. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt this way about anything. It wasn’t as though he had lied to her. Though, he figured withholding the truth wasn’t much better. And after she had been so honest with him? Maybe that was the reason behind Vincent’s overwhelming guilt. She had trusted him enough to be vulnerable, and all he had done in return was built up walls and withheld the truth from her.

“I… I guess I should start at the beginning,” Vincent confessed, taking a deep breath.

“I was born in 1950 and grew up with my father who was a scientist for Shinra. He died… and around the same time, I joined the Turks,” Vincent explained, making glances at Leya as he spoke to gauge her reaction. So far, she had her face turned away, so he couldn’t tell.

“I was… lacking motivation in life. I didn’t know what to do with myself except to follow in my father’s footsteps and try to find out what happened to him. The Turks seemed like the best way to do that at the time,” he said to her. “Eventually, I was given the job of guarding two research scientists in a town called Nibelheim. They were Dr. Hojo and a woman named Lucrecia.”

Just saying their names still stung more than it should. The next part of the story was the most difficult to talk about.

“As I continued to work there and interact with Lucrecia, I… I quickly fell in love with her. She was my first love, my only one, really. But, her own grief and guilt prevented her from wanting to be with me. Instead, she turned to Hojo, choosing to be with him instead.”

Leya looked up from her spot across from him, making brief eye contact as he spoke.

“She married him and quickly became pregnant. Hojo, the sick bastard, wanted to experiment on their unborn child,” Vincent explained, his frustration about the situation still raw even after all of these years. “I couldn’t sit there and do nothing about it. But after getting nowhere with Lucrecia, I confronted Hojo. He… He shot me and then locked me away with his other experiments.”

“Vincent…” Leya whimpered.

“I died, Leya,” he admitted, staring down at his hands in his lap. “He killed me and experimented on my corpse…” He paused, trying to recall his own memories. “But then I woke up again, this time by Lucrecia’s tampering. She infused me with a powerful entity, a monster named Chaos. Somehow, it resurrected me, but it also changed me.”

Vincent heaved a deep sigh, trying to find the best words to say this all to Leya.

“When I came back to life, I had superhuman abilities, Leya. More strength or speed than any man alive, I imagine. But it did something else too. It made me…” 

Could he really say it to her? Could he confess the weight that had been pressuring him ever since he came back to Costa del Sol? He finally just blurted it out.

“I don’t age, Leya. You’re smart. You’ve surely figured out that if I was born in 1950, then I should be 61, but I’m not. I’m 27 years old and I have been for at least 30 years and I will continue to be 27 until… until I don’t know when. For forever? Until the end of time?”

Vincent ran his hands through his hair, exasperated at trying to wrap his head around his own existence. Even he didn’t have all of the answers. No one did, and he doubted that anyone ever would.

Taking one last deep breath to realign himself, Vincent continued.

“After Lucrecia gave birth,” he started. “She grew ill and I thought she died. At the time, I blamed myself… and, to atone for the sin I felt I had committed, I locked myself away in the basement of the Shinra mansion in Nibelheim. I slept for 20 years, trying to avoid thinking about what I had done and what had been done to me. Time passed both slowly and in an instant. Suddenly, AVALANCHE had discovered me and I joined their group in the hopes of finding Hojo and…” He paused, looking to Leya once more to gauge her reaction. This time, she looked straight at him, her eyes watery. “In the hopes of finding Hojo and killing him.”

When Leya didn’t say anything, Vincent rubbed the back of his neck briefly and finished his story.

“So we found Hojo, murdered him, and saved the world. I was surprised to feel so welcomed in their group, though I left to do my own thing after our mission was accomplished. We’ve saved the world a few more times since then, the last time being this past year. Now we’re retired and… I’m here with you.”

The room grew quiet now that his tale was complete. Vincent had laid everything out for her to see. How would she respond? AVALANCHE knew about his condition but he hadn’t told anyone else beside them. There wasn’t anything he could really compare this situation to. Surely this would be the breaking point, the truth that would send her into a fury, demanding that he leave her home in an instant. It was honestly the reaction that Vincent was expecting. He didn’t deserve to stay here after the way he had betrayed her.

After quite some time, Leya reached over and took Vincent’s hand in her own. The gesture took him by surprise, but even more shocking were the tears he saw forming in her eyes. For once, he could tell exactly how she was feeling. Positively everything was bursting at the brim, and the least she could do was take his hand before drowning.

“I-I’m s-so sorry, Vincent,” Leya stammered, her voice shaking even harder than when she had been terrified during the break-in. She opened her mouth to say more, but closed it. “I’m sorry,” was all she was able to say.

Something about having an innocent woman trembling before him, her hand shaking like a leaf in his, tears dammed up in her eyes, forced Vincent’s body to act on its own. He grasped her hand firmly in his and used his free arm to pull Leya in closer to him. Anyone who knew Vincent knew that he wasn’t the “touchy feely” type, but something inside of him told him that this was the right thing to do.

Vincent held her there pressed against his chest as she began to release her own built up tension, mainly through a stream of tears. She sobbed into the fabric of his shirt, drenching it with her salty tears. Her other hand reached to wrap around Vincent, stopping at his back and getting partially tangled in his long black hair.

Vincent wasn’t an expert but he had a working theory that this reaction wasn’t just about him. It couldn’t be all for him, right? He figured she had to be reacting to the terror of having her home broken into in combination with his depressing life story. There was no way that she cared enough about him to cry this badly just for him. Vincent couldn't fathom it.

“Leya,” Vincent spoke softly to her after a few moments, his body frozen in fear of disturbing her cry secession. “Come on, Leya. Let’s get you to bed. We can talk about this more in the morning, okay?”

It felt like the decent thing to do now. Staying up and worrying about things was his vice, not hers. She deserved better than this.

Slowly, he felt a small nod coming from Leya. She sniffled, trying to dry her eyes long enough to speak, but it didn’t appear to be working.

“Come here,” he said.

Carefully, he let go of her hand and scooped her whole body up into his arms. She continued to bury her face into the fabric of his shirt, still dealing with tears streaming down her cheeks. Now absolutely positive that he had a good grip on her, Vincent stood up off the couch and began to escort her back to her bedroom. They passed by the spot where he had shot the guard officer on their way to her door, and sure enough, there was a small crimson stain in the carpet. Vincent made a mental note to clean it up before she woke up in the morning. Leya didn’t need to deal with that on top of everything else.

Thankfully, her bedroom door was still open, so Vincent slipped inside with ease and approached her bed. It was just the way she had left it, messy with a perfect Leya shaped hole in the side. With the utmost care, he laid her down, placing her head on her pillow. She immediately grabbed the pillow she had been cuddling with when he found her asleep earlier this evening, pulling it close to her face to become her next tear soaked rag.

Satisfied with her relocation, Vincent turned to leave, but was stopped by Leya’s hoarse voice.

“Will you be okay?” she asked, her voice pained.

He craned his neck to look back at her. In the light of the moon streaming through the window, her wet eyes seemed to shine, desperate for… something. Vincent wasn’t sure what. How could she be concerned for him at a time like this? He was the one that should be asking if she would be okay, but instead, he chose to just answer her question.

“Yes. Now, get some rest.”

“Do you promise?”

Vincent turned back towards the door and began to leave.

“I promise, Leya. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Apparently satisfied with his response, Leya audibly sighed before closing her eyes and giving in to her fatigue: emotional and physical.

On his way out, Vincent closed the door to her bedroom. Now finally alone, he heaved his own sigh partnered with an exasperated chuckle. The rose tinted glasses had been removed. Going forward, both of them knew each other’s secrets. There wasn’t anything left to hide, right? She hadn’t kicked him out of her house yet… That was enough for Vincent now.

He made his way into his own bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. Vincent knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, though he was going to try. In a few swift motions, he flung his damp shirt off of his torso and plopped down onto the bed.

“Fuck...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to writing this chapter for a few days now and I'm pleased with how it turned out! This is a huge turning point for Leya and Vincent's relationship. With everything out on the table, they can truly move forward. <3
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this chapter and the story as a whole! I hope you enjoyed it. See you next update!


	9. Morning Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day after the break-in, Leya and Vincent take some time to further discuss what happened last night and clear the air on where they stand with one another.

That next morning felt like the hardest day to wake up to. Honestly, Leya didn’t even remember falling asleep. It felt impossible to have been able to rest after an awful and eventful night like that, but yet, Leya had done it. After Vincent had laid her down on her mattresses, she had cried until her eyes had nothing else to drain. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried like that… But, when her tear ducts were empty, she closed her eyes and drifted off into sleep. It would have been nice to have dreamed about something pleasant to cleanse her palette from all of the unsavory, but instead, Leya’s sleep was occupied by black nothingness, a void of uncertainty, and that feeling lingered in her mind as she stirred awake.

It took almost all of her energy to just get out from underneath her sheets and slide off the bed. The weight of what had to come next pressed down on Leya like a strong gravitational pull. 

She  _ had _ to speak to Vincent again. It wasn’t a matter of wanting to avoid him. No. She craved his company more than anyone else’s. Instead, Leya was worried about  _ what _ they needed to talk about.

Last night, Vincent had laid his whole story out on the table for her to hear, every difficult detail included. His father’s death. His first heartbreak. But it was worse than that… Almost every human alive dealt with death and loss of love at some point, but Vincent had been to hell and back. How was she supposed to feel about his literal death and resurrection? How was she supposed to feel about his ageless existence?

Leya had intended to spend all night pondering what she should say in response but had fallen asleep instead. That seemed to be a habit of hers: letting exhaustion prevent her from making things easier for Future Leya. 

_ Every man for themselves,  _ she thought to herself as she made her way into her bathroom. Leya couldn’t even depend on her past self anymore. She was approaching uncharted territory with no help in sight.

Leya managed to get changed out of her pajamas into something equally comfortable but more socially acceptable to wear in public. Her hair was riddled with bed head, but her brush was good enough at smoothing out the kinks. She sloppily fasted her blonde locks into an off the shoulder braid before beginning her journey downstairs.

The doorknob was the first major obstacle to overcome. Outside of the door was the home she felt had left in shambles last night. Leya didn’t want to see the blood on the floor left from the man who had been shot. Had he truly been at fault? Or had he just been doing his job? Getting shot at for a living seemed like a waking nightmare to Leya. Maybe he had been innocent in all of this, a sacrifice willing to be made by his superiors. The thought of it made Leya sick.

With slow movements, she turned the knob open and stepped out in the hallway that haunted her mind. Much to her surprise, the blood was gone. There was no sign left of the previous night’s altercation, and yet… Leya could still see the slumped over body of the guard pressed against the wall in her mind. She had a gut feeling that it would be there for a while.

Taking a sigh in an attempt to clear her mind (it was unsuccessful), Leya continued downwards until the kitchen was in sight. She had almost expected to see the mysterious man in the fancy suit still sitting at her kitchen island, but instead, she gazed upon the familiar sight of her house guest, Vincent Valentine.

This was the first time since his arrival in Costa del Sol a few weeks ago that she had seen him in the morning. He was always out the door before she even woke up, and Leya didn’t even sleep in that much. Vincent just woke up  _ that _ early. Somedays, Leya wondered if he ever went to sleep in the first place. With the newfound information that Vincent was immortal, Leya secretly theorized if she had let a vampire into her home. Being immortal and never sleeping wasn’t the best combination for one’s reputation.

He looked up from the ceramic mug in his hands, making eye contact with Leya for the first time since last night. His red eyes tore through her defenses in an instant. She didn’t know how to have her guard up around him. One look from him and everything melted.

“Morning,” Vincent greeted, his tone surprisingly timid, at least for him. Leya was starting to become a novice interpreter of all of the different ways he subtly showed emotion. It definitely wasn’t an easy undertaking.

“Good morning...” she replied, ducking her head down as she made her way to the coffee pot, desperate for the caffeine. She needed something to help jumpstart her mind before they started discussing last night again.

Could he feel the tension in the air? Leya wondered if he knew how unsettled she was. Surely he did, right? Even to a small degree. It seemed like a fair assumption after his comforting behavior last night.

Just thinking about it manifested butterflies in Leya’s stomach. Had the circumstances been less grim, she would be freaking out a whole lot more about his soothing embrace. She hadn’t expected a hug from him last night when she reached for his hand (Leya was still trying to test the water afterall), and yet, he had given her one, seemingly without hesitation. It had been a light in the midst of the darkness last night.

Leya looked down into her hands and noticed she was already holding a cup of steamy coffee, cream and sugar included. She must have zoned out and made the beverage on auto-pilot.

Turning around, it was now time to face Vincent. They couldn’t proceed forward without clearing the air on a few more topics they hadn’t been able to discuss last night (thanks to Leya’s emotional outburst).

“Thank you for sticking around this morning,” Leya started, taking a sip of her coffee.

He nodded his head, humming a bit as he fidgeted slightly with the cup in his hands.

“I, uh, have a few questions… about last night? About you.”

“I’ll try to answer the best I can,” Vincent promised. The look on his face was proof enough that he meant it.

“That man last night, with the slicked back hair and blue suit. Who was he? You seemed to know him,” Leya asked first, leaning against the kitchen counter as she waited for his response.

“Shinra has a special task force called the Turks that get assigned all of the odd dirty work Shinra doesn’t want to go public,” he began to explain. “They recruit members for SOLDIER, escort important individuals, even do spy work and assissination. I was a part of this group back when I was, well…”   


“Right. And, this man?”   


“His name is Tseng, and he’s been the head of the force for a while now. If he’s showing up to conduct business for Shinra, then you know it’s bad,” Vincent said, looking down into his cup of coffee.

So Leya casually had her house broken in by one of the scariest, most lethal men on all of the Planet? Great… That information wasn’t going to help her rest easy.

“Why the break-in?” Leya questioned next. “Why didn’t they just come talk to you and offer you your old job?”

Vincent couldn’t help but smirk, though he looked more dejected than amused. “No one at Shinra operates that way, Leya, especially not the Turks. It’s all about intimidation and power.”

“So making this Turk leader guy break into my house means?”

“They wanted to send a clear message to me, a warning. His presence alone means it is serious.”   


Leya didn’t like the sound of that. She had seen enough of the news over the years to know that Shinra wasn’t the pristine and holy company they made themselves out to be, especially after the meteor four years ago. Enough of AVALANCHE’s message had gotten out there — even all the way to Costa del Sol — to sew doubt into the minds of the public. Working for them didn’t seem like the morally right thing to do.

“Have they talked to you before about this? Has this… this Tseng guy showed up before?” Leya said next.

“No one has approached me about this until last night. I'm sorry that you were caught up in it.”

“Why  _ was _ I involved?” That was the part that Leya didn’t quite understand. If Shinra wanted to talk to Vincent, why did they break into  _ her _ home?

“They probably were waiting for a time to ‘drop in’, but when I stayed here for longer than expected, they had to surprise both of us,” Vincent guessed, his reply more of a theory than a definitive answer.

“And that is why Tseng knew my name?” Leya asked, the pieces falling into place.

“Hmm,” he hummed in agreement. “They would have surveyed us for days, if not longer. Probably conducted research on who you are to try to piece together why I’ve been here for so long.”

“O-Oh…”

Leya had the same question the Turks must have had. Why was Vincent staying here with her? Sure, it meant having a warm bed and home cooked meals multiple times a week, but was that truly it? Did he consider this a vacation? A break from his work as a mercenary for an eco-terrorist group? She recalled that his reason for showing up in the hospital was that he intended on keeping his promise to come visit her. He had clearly spent enough time with her to cover the little promise.

So why was Vincent still here?

Leya didn’t mind, of course. In fact, she loved every minute of it. A year ago, she had met this mysterious man and pursued him like a heroine from a romance novel. She had been tired of her dull life and craved excitement. At the time, nothing could have been more exciting than a tall man in a red cloak with a gun strapped to his thigh who just so happened to stroll into her hometown.

But now?

It was so much more than a fleeting crush based on an adrenaline high. She had discovered over time that Vincent was more than a cold and calm mercenary tolerating her attempts at flirting. In his own ways, he was genuinely considerate and thoughtful to her. She noticed how he also helped her wash the dishes after supper, even if he did a poor job at it. She noticed how he asked her how she wanted to spend time with him each day, carefully considering her own expectations for their ‘relationship’. He could be an airhead one moment and a wise source of solace at another. He never seemed to judge her for the silly things she did, like dancing when she mopped the kitchen floors, and if he did judge her, he rightfully kept it to himself.

All of this compiled into an overwhelming bundle of emotions. It was hard to describe each emotion individually, but collectively, Leya knew that it meant she was falling in love. She had experienced love before, so she was familiar with the sensation. Without a doubt, she had feelings for him… and that was why she selfishly wanted him here.

However, as the cliche goes, if you love something, set it free. Leya knew she needed to know why Vincent was still here because if he was sticking around out of some odd sense of guilt or obligation, then he needed to leave now before her feelings deepened. It would only get harder for them to split up from here on out, at least for Leya it would.

After taking a deep breath to prepare herself, Leya walked around her kitchen island and took a seat in one of the barstools next to Vincent. His head turned to look at her as she settled into the chair, but Leya kept her gaze fixed on her cup of coffee, using it as a crutch.

“How are you?” Vincent asked her, the question catching Leya off guard.

“I’m… processing,” she admitted. She had to pause to search for the perfect word. “But Vincent, you need to know something.”

He remained silent, waiting for her response.

“Last night, I was terrified, the most I’ve been in my life probably, but… I had complete faith in your ability to protect yourself and me. I didn’t need to see the proof of your skills beforehand. I don't know. I just… believed in you, trusted you,” Leya began. “And… It’s because I really like you, Vincent. A lot. I have all of these deep feelings for you and nothing that you did or said last night could change that now. Your past made you who you are today, and… I really like the man sitting beside me.”

Leya hadn’t intended on gushing it all out like that, but when it came to matters of the heart, she found that an honest, unrehearsed approach was often the best.

“You like me?”

Leya chuckled, mildly exasperated at his confused reply.

“Yes! I do like you. I have for a while now, and… I really don’t want to stop seeing you and being around you.”

“Well, that’s good to know. I’ve been staying in your house for a while. If that was not the case, I would’ve been a nuisance.”

Leya set down her coffee on the counter, the ceramic clanking against her countertops as she tried to think of yet another way of explaining this maddening situation to Vincent.

“Vincent, I’m trying to say that I  _ like _ you, you know? Romantically…” Hopefully that was blatant enough. Leya didn’t know how much embarrassment she could handle this morning.

“Oh,” he replied curtly. “Romantic feelings for me?”

She nodded her head abashedly, feeling heat rush to her cheeks.

“You may continue then.”

“Wait, what…?” Leya interjected, taking a moment of bravery to look over at him. “What do you mean ‘I may continue’?” She couldn’t help but let out another awkward giggle.

“Don’t let me stop you from feeling how you want to feel,” Vincent began to explain. “I don’t know how to respond to what you’ve told me, but I hope that doesn’t deter you. I can leave if—”

“NO! No, no, no…! Please.” Her hands waved in front of Vincent as she desperately tried to get him to stay. Leya heaved a sigh. “Please… Just stay, okay? If you want. If you enjoy it here.”

“Alright,” he replied curtly, setting down his own cup of coffee. “I’ll stay.”

Leya couldn’t help but flash him a kindhearted smile. Sure, it wasn’t clear reciprocation, but she hadn’t expected him to return her feelings right away. For now, him remaining calm about the whole situation was enough for her.

“Thank you, Vincent. Oh, and thank you for cleaning up the, uh, mess upstairs,” Leya responded, remembering the lack of stains in the hallway by their rooms.

He hummed his reply, acknowledging her gratitude. “You should get the window fixed though,” Vincent pointed out.

“Shit,” Leya cursed under her breath, completely forgetting about that.

The quiet curse made Vincent smirk again ever so slightly.

“I guess I’ll call my dad and then ask someone in town to help me get it fixed,” Leya said, verbalizing her plan for the rest of the day. “It’s going to be one hellish 24 hours, right, Vincent?”   


“Right.”   


They made eye contact, and the looks on both of their faces was reassurance enough that things would be okay, for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading, leaving Kudos, commenting, bookmarking, subscribing and whatever else you do to show your appreciation! It always makes my day to see that you all are enjoying the story.


	10. Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unlikely pair decide to spend their evening out on the beach staring up at the stars. They take the opportunity to ask each other questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo!! Chapter 10 is here! I never DREAMED I could make it this far, and hey, I'm determined to go even farther.  
> A pre-emptive thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading!  
> Enjoy the new chapter.

“See? I told you this view would be amazing!” Leya cheered, skipping her way onto the sandy shore of one of Costa del Sol’s beaches.

The atmosphere was absolutely perfect for their plans tonight. After the sun went down a few hours ago, a sense of calm had enveloped over the whole town. Tourists and locals alike settled into their homes for the evening, leaving the beach perfectly unattended. Even the birds seemed to have made their beds for the night. That meant that the only sound to be heard was the gentle push and pull of the waves creeping onto the shore.

Leya knew that the locals didn’t really like it when people snuck out onto the beach after dark, but that was because rebellious teenagers would usually come out and trash the place with their junk food wrappers and such. As long as her and Vincent showed no signs of having been there, they should be fine. Besides, Leya respected the beach. It was her home.

As a light breeze blew by, Leya’s hair followed it, swaying in front of her face. The sensation tickled her nose, so she tucked the loose strands behind her ear. She was thankful that the wind wasn’t too harsh tonight, but still, heeding Vincent’s advice and putting on something a little warmer had been the right call to make. Besides, she did like wearing big fuzzy sweaters. It was just pants that she despised. 

With Vincent behind her, Leya began to trek down the beach, looking for the perfect place for them to set up for the next hour or so. Her eyes scanned around until they landed on the perfect location. It was a slight incline, giving them a better vantage point, and there wasn’t any seaweed, rocks, or big seashells to clear out of the way.

“How about here?” she asked, gesturing to the spot she had in mind.

Vincent hummed in agreement, moving in front of her so he could fan out her picnic blanket for them to sit on.

For how much of a night owl Vincent was, Leya was surprised that they hadn’t hung out like this before. She guessed it was because she was always eager to wash up and get ready for bed to keep her routine in order. Still, a nice change of pace was welcome too.

After the blanket was properly spread across the sand, Leya plopped down, immediately lying back as she took in the scenery around her. It truly was a perfect night to be out. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, leaving the entire night sky open for their viewing.

“This is exactly what I needed after my first full week back at work,” Leya admitted, stretching her limbs as she tried to get comfy.

Slowly, with more caution than she had used, Vincent sat down beside her, choosing to stay upright. He looked so different from the man she had met a year ago, and yet… so very much the same.

While the old Vincent had always worn the same battle-ready outfit, the man beside her had grown comfortable in his new clothing. His new slightly baggy black pants had plenty of pockets and buckles to spare and suited his style nicely. While the turtleneck shirts he bought were similar to what he already wore underneath his crimson cloak and jacket, these new ones were better fitting, showing off his very slender but toned body just enough for Leya to have some eye candy. Last but not least, his leather jacket and black “combat boots” (named for their style, not their effectiveness in combat — or so Vincent told her) were the finishing touches that brought his civilian look together. Most days, he had even started taking off the red rag he used as a headband, choosing to let his hair be an even wilder mess than before. Leya convinced him to let her tame his hair into a ponytail every now and then, leaving his fringe out in the front so it could sway in front of his eyes like usual.

Overall, she hoped she had helped him adjust into a modern-looking man, a handsome one at that.

“How was work?” Vincent asked her, completely breaking her train of thought. “Did you feel tired?”

“It was fine,” she replied honestly. “Just usual work, really. It doesn’t take a ton of energy to sit in a stall all day and talk to tourists, but I enjoy it well enough. Though, last week was a little better when I had much shorter shifts.”

“Good,” he hummed, satisfied with her response.

After a moment of silence, Vincent spoke up again.

“Why are we here again?”

Leya giggled, wondering to herself if he was bored already.

“Stargazing, silly!” she exclaimed. “It’s so gorgeous out here, right? Just look up and take it all in. Try to relax. You might even fall asleep.” The last part came out as a tease. Leya tried to keep him on his toes the best she could.

“Right,” was all he said in return, sarcasm tinged in his voice.

She lifted her head up enough to catch the growing smirk on his face. Cheeky devil.

With soft movements, she moved to place her hand over his. The gesture, though gentle in nature, startled Vincent. His gaze quickly met hers.

“Lay down with me?” Leya asked him, her voice warm and inviting. She hoped that one day she would sound like a siren to him, but… surely that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Leya would have to practice first. The thought of having that kind of “power” made her want to giggle. 

Vincent responded by cautiously laying down on his back, careful not to accidently rest on top of her. As he wiggled into place, finally finding a comfortable enough place to stay, Leya reached for his hand again. Thankfully, this time he didn’t jolt but simply let her hold his hand. She appreciated that he was polite enough to not refuse her indulgences. Besides, there was no one around to see them hand-in-hand. It was just a moment for the two of them to enjoy. Well, for Leya to enjoy at least.

“Do you know any constellations?” Leya asked, eyes searching the sky for any sort of pattern.

Vincent huffed, obviously amused. “I should ask you the same thing. This was your idea.”

“Hey!” she shouted, jokingly upset at his comment. “Just because I like to look at the stars doesn’t mean I know anything about them.”

“That makes no sense.”

“HEY! Stop it!” she laughed, giving him a playful shove with her free hand.

“So what are we supposed to talk about then, if not the stars?” Vincent retorted, turning his head to look at her, awaiting her response.

“Hmm…” Leya paused to think. “We could always play 20 Questions?”

“What is that?”

Right. This was Vincent she was talking to. If he hadn’t been immortal, he would be around her dad’s age. Of course he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“It’s what the name suggests. We go back and forth asking each other 20 questions. They can be about literally anything, but the catch is that you aren’t supposed to answer your own question so that there’s some mystery,” Leya explained.

“Simple enough.”

“I’ll start then! Hm…” As she peered up at the sky, she searched her thoughts for a good first question. Something to break the ice. “Where do you want to travel the most?”

The air between them was quiet as he thought of an answer.

“There’s this old city in the north of the planet. Completely abandoned for centuries. It’s eerie there, but yet… beautiful and peaceful. Unlike any other place I’ve seen. The trees almost glow,” Vincent answered, his voice full of awe. “I’ve gone there a lot, but I would go again.”

“Wow…” Leya marveled, enamored by Vincent’s poignant answer. “Your turn,” she added, giving his hand a little squeeze.

“Hmm… Why don’t you go by your full name? It’s Cattleya, right?” he questioned her. Leya caught him sneaking a glance over at her and she wondered if he was hesitating.

“Oh, yeah. I guess that Turk guy told you my full name, huh?” Leya didn't realize he knew her full name until that very moment. “It just sounds so… sophisticated to me. Like some big important title I need to live up to. Leya suits me much more, don’tcha think?”

He nodded his head slightly. “Yes. It does.”

The comment made Leya feel warm in her cheeks, despite the crisp nighttime air. She tried not to analyze his responses too much, but she did feel like that was Vincent’s way of saying that he liked her name. If that conclusion was true, well, then Leya was flattered.

“Your turn,” he interrupted her thoughts once more.

“Right. What would you say is your dream job?” she asked, trying to get her head back into the moment. She shouldn’t be theorizing right now.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I only joined the Turks to try to find out more about my father. They taught me how to fight. Joining AVALANCHE wasn’t intentional. I don’t know what my  _ ‘dream’  _ would be.” The way he said dream was like it was from a foreign language, completely new to his lips.

“O-Oh…” Leya couldn’t help but look away, gazing off into the distance as she started to dream for him. “Maybe you could be some sort of law enforcement? Not for Shinra obviously, but someone who watches out for people and does what’s right.” She felt even more heat in her face. “Nah, that’s dumb. What am I saying?”

“It sounds nice,” Vincent cut her off. “It’s not dumb.”

She chuckled a bit, trying to clear the air.

“Hm…” He paused to think of another question. “What are you afraid of?”

“Oh gosh. I hope you're not trying to scare me,” she joked. “I kind of have claustrophobia. Being in a room super packed with people or being trapped in a small space makes me freak out a bit, but it’s not too bad. If I’m being honest, I’m more afraid of being trapped in this town my whole life or being trapped in a hospital.”

“You want freedom,” Vincent replied. To her surprise, his thumb stroked her hand comfortingly but only for a moment.

“Yeah… But my dad is worried about me leaving. I’m worried about leaving too, even though I want it.”

“I understand.”

Leya turned her head to look over at him beside her. Their eyes met for a moment before Vincent gazed back up at the sky.

“Wait, don’t you work in a hole in the wall?” Vincent remembered, seeing a contradiction between her fear and her everyday reality. 

She couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s true. I do. But I’m not trapped. I can get out at any time, so it doesn’t scare me.”

He hummed in reply, accepting her explanation. 

“Um, so…” Leya started, getting back on track. “What is the happiest memory you can remember? It can be anything, as long as it’s the happiest.” She hoped it wasn’t too personal of a question. After learning about his unfortunate past a week ago, Leya simply wanted to know what good things had happened to him.

“When Tifa reopened her bar in Edge, she invited all of AVALANCHE to come. I’m not one for parties, but… It was nice to belong for a moment.” He sounded disheartened as he spoke, despite declaring that his happiest memory.

“Do you feel like you don’t belong anymore?” 

“It’s my turn to ask a question,” Vincent pointed out. “Those are the rules.” Was he trying to avoid the subject? 

“R-Right! Of course,” she laughed to hide her awkwardness.

“You don’t like wearing pants, do you?”

The question completely caught Leya off guard. She bursted with even more laughter, turning over onto her side so she didn’t huff hot air into Vincent’s face.

“So you noticed, did you?” she replied in between chuckles.

“Is that bad?” he asked, and she almost thought he was seriously concerned.

“No! No. It’s hilarious that you asked but it’s absolutely true. I don’t like pants. They feel so restricting to me. Skirts are the way to go,” Leya answered, grinning from ear to ear.

“Noted.”

Her smile fading quickly, Leya took the opportunity to return to their previous subject. “Why do you feel like you don’t belong with AVALANCHE? Aren’t they your friends?”

Vincent took his longest pause yet, clearly searching within himself for the answer to her question. Leya didn’t think he was the type to reflect on his feelings much, so the question had to be difficult for him to answer. Hopefully she hadn’t crossed a line or anything…

“We are friends. But I’m the outsider looking in. Things would be the same even if I wasn’t there,” he finally spoke up after a while.

“Vincent…” Leya murmured. Her heart ached after hearing his words. “I know that I haven’t met any of your friends, but I know that that can’t be the truth. I’m sure they enjoy your company and care about you as much as I do, if not more.”

He remained silent, maybe in denial of her response. When he didn’t say anything after a moment, Leya turned onto her side to face him, his hand still in hers.

“Hey… Are you okay? Did I go too far?” With Vincent, it was still hard to tell how he was feeling, especially in special cases like this. Leya prayed that she hadn’t upset him. All she had wanted was to figure out why he felt so estranged about his only group of friends.

“I’m fine,” he replied, glancing at her for a brief second. “Promise.”

“Okay,” was all Leya knew to say. She would have to trust his word for now.

“It’s my turn,” Vincent spoke up. “If you could be doing anything right now, what would you want to do? No restrictions.”

“Hmm…” Leya had to admit that his question threw her for a loop. She didn’t imagine he would ask something so hypothetical. “Well… I have to admit, I’m pretty happy right now. It would be hard to trade this moment with you for anything else.”   


“Not even a chance to be anywhere else in the world? Doing something more exciting?”

“One question at a time, sir!” She teased, giving him a taste of his own medicine. “It’s my turn again. When is your birthday?”   


Vincent groaned. That was a clearest indication of his feelings she had ever seen from him. He was always so quiet and lacked a wide range of facial expressions. The audible annoyance was a welcomed display of emotion. Leya couldn’t help but stare at him, grinning with mild amusement.

“What? Come on. I want to know when you’re supposed to turn 62 or whatever.”

“I don’t want to answer,” he retorted, finally taking his hand away from hers as he crossed his arms across his chest. Was he… pouting?

“You have to. It’s the rules,” Leya insisted, still acting playful.

“Fine,” he huffed out. “It’s October 13th. You should be glad I actually remember.”

“Ooooh!” Leya marveled, cooing like a schoolgirl. “So you’re a Libra. That makes a lot of sense.”   


“A Libra? What’s that?”

“Your zodiac sign, silly. You know, your astrological sign based on the stars’ alignment on the day you were born,” she explained. “To me, it’s all just for fun, really. Stuff you read in a magazine.”   


He heaved a small sigh, returning to his arms to his sides. “Leya, don’t plan anything for my birthday. Just don’t,” he pleaded, his tone defeated.

“Do you think you’ll still be staying with me in October? That’s months away,” she pointed out. 

The two of them hadn’t sat down to discuss what their visitation expectations were. Leya only knew that she was grateful for every day they got to spend together. She was the happiest she had been in years. Just having someone around the house all the time was nice, sure, but it was more than that. Vincent truly brightened her day with his unique conversations and thoughtful actions. But surely his promise to visit her would run out by the time Fall came. He had already been staying with her for almost a month. Why?

Vincent hummed, giving himself a moment to ponder over it. “I don’t know,” was all he said in response.

Leave it to Vincent Valentine to give her vague answers when she needed clear ones the most. Leya guessed she would just take things one day at a time for now. It would have to do.

“Who’s turn is it?” Leya asked, rolling onto her back again so she could gander up at the stars. “I lost track.”   


“I don’t remember,” he answered honestly.

“Oh well. I guess that’s good enough for now.”

“Is there a penalty for not asking all 20 questions?” Vincent questioned her, his voice absolutely serious.

She stifled a giggle, entertained by his train of thought. “No. It’s not that kind of game,” Leya explained. “Let’s just watch the sky for a little longer.”

He hummed in agreement. 

As the pair gazed up at the vast array of stars, they both couldn't help but feel like small cogs in the vast machine of the universe. It was humbling to know that there was something more outside of the limits of the city, even beyond the edges of the planet. At the same time, it was the small things, the small moments like this, that had some of the most value.

Leya swore she saw a shooting star dance across the sky right as Vincent slipped his hand back into hers. An instant dream come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy times galore. I hope you like cute moments like this because there will be many more to come!  
> Thank you for reading, leaving kudos, bookmarking, commenting, everything!!  
> Friendly reminder if you want to check out any of my artwork (I draw Vincent and Leya constantly), I'm on Twitter (@katiekat_artist) and Instagram (@katiekatartist)!


	11. Mountainside View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Vincent's turn to think of something fun for him and Leya to do on her day off. His idea ends up being a perfect choice.

Vincent Valentine never would have guessed he would stay in one place for so long, much less actually enjoy it. He always figured that being in one town for more than two weeks would feel like imprisonment. Back in the day when he was with AVALANCHE every day, they constantly hopped around the planet in pursuit of Shinra or Sephiroth, so he was used to a constant change of scenery. Even when he was on his own, he followed a similar pattern. Maybe he had been afraid of staying still for too long, but now…?

He could hardly remember life before staying with Leya. He had fallen into a new routine without warning. Every morning, he left the house to get some time alone. It usually meant grabbing coffee and taking a ride to clear his head. Sometimes he’d go for a walk instead. Either way, he’d come back to her house for lunch before Leya left for work — if she was on schedule that day. His whole day after that revolved around her: how she wanted to spend time together, what errands she needed to run, how long her shift was. To his surprise, it was a pleasant routine.

His new everyday cycle paired with the nature Costa del Sol provided was a pleasing combination. Something about the atmosphere in town was so… comfortable. The breeze was pleasant most days, adding some relief from the hot summer sun. The locals were friendly overall. A few had even started to remember him when he made trips downtown. Was he becoming a regular?

_How bizarre._ He thought to himself. The only place he could remember being in for more than a week was a coffin in the basement of an abandoned mansion. That had been a cozy atmosphere indeed.

Sitting up, Vincent shifted from laying down on Leya’s couch to taking a seat on one of the cushions. What was she up to? It wasn’t like her to not be downstairs in the middle of the afternoon. She almost always found something to do on the first floor, whether it be some midday cleaning or a sketching break on the couch.

He rose to his feet, determined to go investigate. Surely it was nothing, but he convinced himself that it was worth checking on her.

One step at a time, Vincent made his way through the first floor and up the stairs towards Leya’s bedroom. To his surprise, he found her door ajar when he made it to the top step. He could clearly hear her talking from within her room. With his unnatural sense of hearing, it was hard not to hear her.

“Dad, I promise I’m fine,” she spoke, presumably on the phone. She sounded… a little frustrated, Vincent guessed. Though, he wasn’t the best judge. “Really, Dad. I’ve recovered completely and Kris has been giving me easy shifts at the tourist center. I’m back to normal, I promise.”

Vincent could mostly make out the sound of her father on the other end of the line. He said something about being worried and about coming home.

“It’s up to you, Dad, but I promise that I feel fine. I don’t want you to drop everything just to come check on me.”

A wave of guilt washed over Vincent. Shit. He shouldn’t just stand here and listen. What was he thinking? That was a surefire way to piss Leya off. 

He took a few steps forwards and used his knuckles to knock on the door, loud enough for her to hear. Their eyes met through the wide crack in the door and she gestured for him to come in. Vincent obliged, pushing the door open and letting himself inside.

It hadn’t occurred to him until just then that he hadn’t stepped foot inside her room since the night of Tseng’s break-in. Even then, he hadn’t taken any time to look around. That night, his focus was on keeping Leya safe. However, now he had plenty of time to see what her bedroom was like.

Vincent knew he wasn’t a good judge of style, but to him, Leya’s room felt warm and inviting. Her walls and carpet were both a shade of pale off-white, but the room didn’t lack any color. Her bed, which was unmade, had pale pink sheets and a coral colored comforter on top. There were plenty of pillows on the bed, all of them patterned but none of them matching. She had a plethora of house plants scattered across the room on her desk, her windowsill, and her book shelves. The most notable part of her room however was the decorations on the wall her desk faced. Pinned in a messy array were dozens of drawings, all presumably hers. Most of them were random snapshots of passersby, but a few were more refined portrait studies. He didn’t recognize any of the faces until he saw his own up on the wall. Actually, there were a lot of drawings of him up on the wall. Vincent couldn't help but grin a bit.

Leya seemed to notice his observation because she hastily ended her phone conversation. “I gotta go, Dad! My friend is here. Yup. Love you too. Bye.” She flipped her phone shut and stored it in the pocket of her skirt. “V-Vincent!” she greeted him, stepping over to where he was. “Um… those are nothing, haha. I just pin up the drawings that I think look good,” she explained.

“Hmm. Then the ones of me are good?”

He watched her open her mouth and shut it slowly yet repeatedly until she finally found the words to respond. “Well, I mean, yeah. They’re good drawings. Not to toot my own horn. I just mean you’re a good model. You look good in the drawings. Not to say that you look bad most of the time. You always look good! You’re, uh, handsome,” she stammered.

“Right,” he responded, honestly not sure what else to say about that. He was just relatively pleased that she found joy in drawing, even if it meant drawing him from time to time. Handsome? He chose to ignore that part.

“Is everything okay with your dad?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Oh! You overhead?” Leya rubbed the back of her neck a bit. “Yeah. He’s fine. He was just worried about how I’ve adjusted back to work since, well… being in the hospital.”

Vincent hummed, acknowledging what she had said. Admittedly, he had been watching her closely since his first day back in town. Ever since learning about her medical condition, he didn’t want her to over exert herself if he had anything to do with it. He wasn’t worth her trouble anyway.

“So, what do we want to do today?” Leya asked, clasping her hands together as she beamed up at him. “I’m off for the rest of today and tomorrow. We should celebrate!”

“How?”

She looked off to the side as she thought of an answer to his question. He could almost see the gears in her head turning as she worked her way through her list of ideas. However, it seemed she was running out because after a few seconds she frowned and sighed a little.

“I can’t think of anything,” Leya finally admitted, seemingly defeated. “What about you?”

Vincent hadn’t been in charge of their freetime in a while. He always let Leya decide because he knew he was awful at coming up with interesting things to do — mainly because he was content to do absolutely nothing. Leya was the one with the itch to be busy, not that he minded.

As he began to think of something for them to do, a thought popped into his mind. He had something he could offer her, something that might be of great interest.

“You’ve really never left town before? Not once?” Vincent clarified first. The look he saw on Leya’s face reminded him of how random his words must have sounded out of context. Oops. He’d have to work on that.

“Nope,” Leya confessed, going along with his train of thought. “Not once. Why?”

“Let’s change that,” Vincent replied. He took a step towards the door.

“What? What do you mean?” Her head turned to follow him as he moved across the room.

“Simple. I’ve got a bike. Let’s go ride,” he explained concisely, boiling his idea down to less than ten words.

He watched as she suddenly froze in place in the middle of her bedroom. Vincent felt his heart skip a beat. Was he gravely mistaken in assuming she would like his idea? He recalled how she lamented to him multiple times about wanting to leave town, about craving freedom. If anything, Vincent was surprised that he hadn’t thought of this solution sooner. And yet, her reaction made him panic. The expression on her face was impossible for him to decipher. Was she elated? Afraid? Furious? What was she thinking?

“... Let’s do it,” she eventually spoke up, her voice quieter than usual. Leya raised her head and met his eyes. She smiled for him before joining him by the door. “I think I’m finally ready.”

Vincent nodded his head, secretly relieved that he hadn’t upset her with his proposition.

They made their way downstairs, walking side by side. Vincent noticed how Leya’s pace changed from a hesitant walk to an energetic skip by the time they made it to the front door. He tried to conceal his satisfaction. Good. She was happy after all. That’s all Vincent wanted.

As he rummaged for his keys in his pant’s pocket, a thought occurred to Vincent. If Leya was going to ride behind him, his hair would violently invade her personal space the whole time. He wasn’t used to having passengers so it hadn’t been a problem before now.

“Leya,” he called, getting her attention. “Show me how to pull my hair up again?” Vincent meant for it to come across as a request, not a demand. He silently prayed that she picked up on that. He had a horrendous habit of speaking before thinking about how his words might sound. Another thing he needed to work on.

Thankfully for him, Leya simply smiled. “Sure! I’d be happy to. Though, I don’t have another hair tie on me. Let me run—”

It was too late for Leya’s suggestion. Vincent took his red cloak from off the coat stand by the front door (a place she had insisted he leave his cloak at. Vincent still didn’t understand why). With one easy hand motion, Vincent tore off a strip of fabric from the edge of the already tattered cloak. No one would notice nor care that the piece of fabric wasn’t there anymore. Vincent knew he definitely didn’t care.

Leya on the other hand squealed beside him, her hands reaching out in protest too little too late. The deed was already done, and the ghostly look on her face showed her displeasure. Vincent shrugged it off. It was just a piece of clothing. It’d be fine.

He extended his hand out to her and gave her the strip of crimson fabric. “Just use this,” he suggested, figuring it would be a decent substitute.

“O-Okay,” she accepted, fingers curling around the worn piece of material.

He watched intently as she first took her own hair out of its already tied position. The action released her golden locks and they cascaded down and around her face. She blew a couple of strands out of the way, chuckling lightheartedly.

“So first,” Leya began. “You just need to gather all of your hair in the back of your head. You can use a brush if you want, but,” she laughed again. “Knowing you, you can just use your fingers to kind of comb it back.” She began to demonstrate, raking her fingers through her hair. She quickly gathered it in the back of her head, and when she was satisfied with the result, she held all of her hair there with one hand. “Now, it’s a little harder with a, uh, ribbon, but just use this to tie it in place, yeah?” Again, she followed her own instructions, skillfully tying up her hair with the strip of his cloak. With the deed done, she twirled around, showing him the finished result before tugging at the ribbon to release her hair once again. Leya handed the fabric back to him and began to refix her hair with her freed hands.

“Now it’s your turn.”

Vincent hummed, agreeing with her. He followed her instructions, gathering his messy black hair in the back of his head. Some strands fell out on their own volition, too short to stay fastened in the back. Those strands — most in the front of his face — would just have to stay for now. Satisfied with his job collecting his hair, he did his best at using the makeshift ribbon to tie it in place. Thankfully, when he released his hands, the ponytail stayed in place. Vincent grinned a little, surprisingly pleased with his result.

Leya beamed, clapping her hands in excitement. “Good job!” she cheered. “That’s perfect, Vince. Very handsome too.” She flashed him a quick wink.

Again with the handsome comments. He didn’t understand where it was coming from. Oh, Right… She _liked_ him. Did that include his appearance too? Vincent didn’t want to give it much thought.

“Let’s go,” he spoke up, bringing them back to the task at hand.

With her hair back to its original style, Leya nodded, moving around him to open the door. She stepped out first and held the door open for him, allowing him to slip by. As he made his way to his bike parked on the side of the street, Leya lingered behind, locking up the house behind them. Vincent slid onto his motorcycle seat and roared the engine to life. Right as he looked over to check on her, she skipped down the sidewalk and over to him. Leya carefully slid onto the bike behind him, hesitating just a bit before inching into position.

“Hold on,” he instructed, waiting for her.

As soon as Leya’s arms were fastened tightly around his waist, he kicked off the ground and commanded the machine forward. He heard Leya squeak behind him, he guessed startled by their movement or maybe excited. Either way, he made sure she was okay before taking off down the street.

He kept their speed appropriate while they were still within the city limits, careful not to break any boring traffic laws. The real show was yet to come, and he knew that. Behind him, he could feel Leya looking around as they made their way through town, but looking at what, he didn’t know.

After a few minutes, they had made their way through the busier areas and the road out of town was finally within sight. Vincent could feel Leya’s arms tightening around his torso, hopefully in happy anticipation. Smirking out of her line of sight, Vincent revved the engine and took off down the road, increasing their speed drastically.

They throttled down the pavement, Costa del Sol growing smaller and smaller behind them by the second. The traffic eventually cleared out the further they drove, so Vincent went even faster. He was skilled enough as a driver to be responsible while still maintaining a fun speed for Leya to enjoy. His Turk days were to thank for his obscure motor vehicle expertise. Another weird muscle memory he still had despite the amount of time passed.

As they drove aimlessly, Vincent could feel Leya turning her head from side to side, taking in the view around them. There wasn’t a ton to look at, just some trees as they made their way towards Mount Corel. Vincent wasn’t incredibly familiar with the area but enough so that he knew they’d be fine. Besides, this was just about going far enough to get a taste for the world.

Continuing towards the mountain, they began to increase elevation, gradually getting higher and higher away from Costa del Sol nestled by the sea. This would be perfect. The mountains made for an ideal vantage point.

Vincent drove for a good while longer, maybe 10-15 more minutes before slowing down and pulling over on to the side of the makeshift road. He figured they should be far enough away and high enough to get a stellar view.

Leya hopped on the bike as soon as the engine shut off, making a mad dash over to the small railing that denoted the edge of the cliffside. He quickly followed after her, afraid she would hurt herself in her excitement. Thankfully, as he approached the railing as well, he observed that the “cliff” had a rather gradual incline. Falling off meant tumbling and getting scraped up, not plummeting to your death. Good to know.

At first, Vincent took in the view. From where they both stood, they could see the mountain range behind them and the vastness of the ocean in front of them. They weren’t high up enough to see across to the eastern continent, if that was even possible, but Vincent knew that somewhere beyond the horizon was Midgar. The sky was fairly clear today, hardly a cloud in sight. Even the waters below looked peaceful.

Vincent’s gaze shifted to Leya beside him. She was slowly twirling around as she took in the fullness of their view. As much time as she spent gawking up at the mountains she also spent admiring the familiar ocean, now bigger than she had ever seen it before. He couldn’t help but get caught up in her awe. To him, the view was nice but lost its spark soon enough. The way she was acting, he knew that it was much more than that to her.

Suddenly, a soft noise caught Vincent’s attention. As Leya turned back towards him, he noticed tears welling in her gray eyes as she breathed short, shaky breaths. She was starting to sob again…

“Leya, I’m sorry—” he began, immediately afraid that this had been a mistake after all.

“No, no…” She managed, her voice quivering. “This… This is perfect. God, it’s so beautiful. All this time…” She giggled, using the sleeve of her sweater to try to dry her eyes. “This has been minutes away from me my whole life and I’ve never seen it.”

Leya tore her eyes away from the scenery, instead looking directly at Vincent. Without warning, she approached him and wrapped her arms around him in a large, unapologetic hug. Vincent tensed up underneath her, not expecting the sudden affection, but she didn’t loosen her grip.

Through shaky sobs, she said, “Thank you… Thank you.” Now she was crying into his jacket, absolutely overwhelmed.

“Of course,” he replied, his own voice low and surprisingly gentle. She could probably feel his chest rumbling as he spoke. “I’d do anything for you.” The words came out of nowhere but felt like the absolute truth. He hoped this little trip would have brought a smile to her face, not tears, but he knew that they were happy tears. Right? She was thanking him after all. She was enjoying this. That’s all he wanted.

“We can stay as long as you want,” Vincent assured her, still unmoving underneath her grasp. 

Finally, Leya sniffed and pulled back, retracting her arms so she could once again dab her eyes with her sweater. As she slowly composed herself again, a warm smile spread across her face. That was the view Vincent had come for.

“Just a few hours, okay? Then we can go home.”

“Hours?” He scoffed, trying to make light of her response.

“Hey! You said as long as I wanted,” Leya pointed out, chuckling happily. Her skin glistened, the water on her cheeks left from the tears reflecting sunlight. In the wind, her hair billowed gently.

Vincent turned his gaze back out towards the sea. “Okay. Just a few hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vincent, you oblivious man, haha. He'll catch up one day, I'm sure.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! I thoroughly hope that you enjoyed the update. There's still more to come! See you next time. :)


	12. Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent unexpectedly gets a phone call asking him for his help.

“Okay, now could you look a little more to the left?” Leya instructed, using the pencil in her hand to direct Vincent.

They both were lounging in the living room, Vincent on the couch across from her while she was perched in her armchair. Her sketchbook was propped up against her bent legs, the pages filling up quickly with her studies thus far. Before having Vincent constantly around, Leya would be content to leave the house to find her next muse. If that didn’t work or she didn’t feel like getting out of her pajamas, then she would simply gather up whatever interesting objects she could find and study those. Things like glass jars and flowers and patterned fabric. However, now that she had an attractive model at her beck and call, Leya couldn’t resist asking him for favors.

Thankfully, he never seemed to mind.

Leya’s eyes met Vincent’s for a moment before he adjusted his head to her satisfaction. She couldn’t help but get lost in the curves of his hair. It dangled perfectly in front of his face, the long strands cascading down like a black waterfall. The shorter pieces that constituted his bangs drew her eye from his temple down to his jaw. It was sharp and angular, akin to a shard of glass. Leya’s gaze wandered down the length of his jaw, over to his chin, and up to his lips.

“Leya?” his voice pierced through her trance.

Right! She was busy… drawing… with Vincent. No time for daydreaming.

“Sorry,” she uttered an apology. Her focus now back to the task at hand, she brought her pencil to the paper and began to sketch.

She had drawn Vincent multiple times since his return to Costa del Sol, and slowly, she felt like she was learning the specific curves and slants of his facial anatomy. Still, for as much as she thought she had his face memorized, Leya was surprised how many new things she would notice when studying him. A faint scar near his jaw healed by time. A stubborn strand of hair that refused to fall into place. The different flecks of color in his eyes that blended together to make them appear crimson overall. Leya couldn't help but wonder what his parents looked like. No matter what their appearance was, they had done a good job creating Vincent. To Leya, that was a fact.

Feeling some heat rushing to her cheeks, Leya looked down at her paper, seeking a brief reprieve. She had given herself a good base to work with, marking out where his facial features were in general. She adjusted the placement of one of Vincent’s eyes in her drawing, glancing back and forth between her paper and her model as she worked, checking for accuracy. She erased a few lines, made a few new ones, and when she was satisfied with the change, Leya shifted gears, ready to start adding in details.

Just as her pencil touched the paper once more, a high pitched jingle interrupted their moment. Leya immediately recognized the tune as the default ringtone for most cell phones. It was obnoxiously catchy and she had a feeling it would be stuck in her head for hours.   


After shooting Leya a brief apologetic stare, Vincent shifted in his spot on the couch, fumbling around in his pockets for his phone. She watched as he opened pocket after pocket, growing frustrated until he finally found it. With a stone cold look on his face, Vincent flipped open the small device and answered the call.

“Mm,” he hummed, his own form of greeting. Vincent stayed relatively quiet, only speaking up every few seconds. “Where? … Tomorrow? Hmm, yes… I’ll be there.”

As quickly as the conversation had started, it was over. Vincent closed his phone and returned it back to his pants pocket, his face still cold. She hadn’t seen him this serious in a while…

“Everything okay?” Leya asked, carefully closing her sketchbook shut. She wanted to divert her attention fully to him. Her drawing could wait. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard your phone go off before.”

“That was Cloud. From AVALANCHE,” Vincent answered plainly, like it wasn’t a big deal that AVALANCHE was calling out of the blue.

“Aren’t you guys retired? What does he want?” Leya hoped she wasn’t prying, but her anxious curiosity had her on the edge of her seat.

“He needs my help. Wants me to meet him in the morning.”   


“Meet you? Where? Vincent, I don’t understand.”

He finally looked over at her, daring to face her concern.

“Nothing major. He just wants to spy on Shinra for a day or two.”

How could he say something like that so nonchalantly and not break his stone cold face? Leya felt shivers running down her back, and yet, he sat there unfazed. Was it really not a big deal? Or was he simply used to this after years of working for an eco-terrorist group?

“I-I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. Leya repositioned herself, taking a normal seat in her chair as she tried to piece together what this meant.

“I’ll be fine, but I need to go prepare.” Vincent rose from his spot on the couch.

“W-Wait!” she stammered, getting up behind him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head, beginning to walk towards the stairs. He didn’t even look back at her as he made his way up to the second floor.

“Vincent…?” Leya called out to him. 

When he didn’t respond, she set down her sketchbook on the coffee table and took small strides after him. By the time she caught up, he was rummaging through his belongings in his room. Leya stood in the doorway, afraid to cross the threshold. This was his world, his work. She didn’t know how she fit into it. In reality, she knew that she didn’t fit in.

“Are you going to come back?” she bravely questioned him, gaze downtrodden. “Like… after your mission is done. Will you move on or come back here?”

Maybe this was his chance to finally get away. Maybe he felt trapped here all of these weeks with her. Maybe he was praying for a way out. In reality, Leya knew it was just her insecurities eating away at her. She wasn’t used to people sticking around for long. Everyone seemed to come in and out of her life like a revolving door. She never knew when they would come back and for how long they’d stay. She felt like a lighthouse, forever stationary, shining her light in the hopes that someone will make their way home to her.

Was Vincent lost at sea or trapped in the revolving door? Leya didn’t know anymore.

She heard the sounds of Vincent’s packing cease, causing her to peak her head up at him. Slowly, he stepped over in front of her, stopping just a few feet away from where she stood.

“Are you worried?” he asked, answering her question with another.

“About you?” she clarified. “Yes.”

“Don’t be,” he replied, his voice a little softer than it had been downstairs. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Right…”

He turned back around, lingering in place by the door, by her. Leya would pay any amount of gil to know what he was thinking at that moment. Just when she thought she understood him better, he gave her another puzzle to unravel.

“If you want me to stay, I will,” Vincent finally answered. “Tell me, Leya. What do you want?”

Her? How was this about her? Leya felt like an interloper in this whole situation. Shouldn’t he be calling the shots? Making his own plans for his future? Leya couldn’t tell if Vincent’s gesture was kind or stupid.

“I want you to stay… but it ultimately needs to be your decision.” Leya admitted, a little defeated.

“Hmm,” he hummed, processing. “Then I’ll come back when I’m finished.”

“You promise?” Leya asked, still desperate to hold onto him.

“Promise.”

His word alone would have to ease her for now.

* * *

It had been a couple of months since Vincent had seen Cloud and Tifa or any member of AVALANCHE for that matter. It hadn’t been since their last mission with the whole gang last Fall. Two seasons had passed since then, and yet, Vincent’s friends hadn’t changed much. It was a slight comfort for the old immortal.

Cloud and Tifa weren’t shocked to find him waiting at the rendezvous point for them. He had left Costa del Sol early in the morning and arrived near North Corel an hour before their scheduled meeting. He might have been inclined to wake up earlier, but Leya begged him to give her a strict time when he would be out the door so she could see him off. He settled on leaving at 5:00am. Even Vincent could tell she wasn’t thrilled about being up that early, but minutes before he left, Leya managed to come downstairs — though wrapped in a blanket and still in her pajamas — and said goodbye. She even tried to give him some food to take with him, but Vincent insisted he and his teammates wouldn’t need it. If anything, Tifa would pack snacks.

Regardless, his teammates arrival had meant they could start their surveillance. According to Cloud, there were rumors forming that Shinra was shipping items to and from the mako reactor in Mount Corel, so AVALANCHE wanted to check things out, make sure Shinra wasn’t rearing its head once again. They scouted around for a while, keeping the talking to a minimum, before finding the perfect spot to spy from. It was nestled high enough up to give them a vantage point of the area, but close enough for them to make out some details, even from a distance.

The three teammates settled into position, all of them knowing that they would be here for the rest of the day. Vincent was content to sit in silence and he figured Cloud was too, but Tifa had other plans.

“You got here pretty fast, didn’t you, Vincent?” she started, keeping her voice quiet enough, though her usual warmth was still present. “Were you closeby? Where have you been lately?”

“I was in Costa del Sol,” he answered bluntly.

“This whole time?” Cloud chirped in. Vincent could tell even he was surprised by the news.

“Mostly. Not the whole time.”

“Right,” Tifa said, voice trailing off.

Silence returned over the group. Vincent’s gaze was glued to the bustling group of Shinra soldiers moving in and out of the facility. They all had boxes brandished with the Shinra logo in their hands, the contents inside unknowable. They were taking these boxes out of the reactor and loading them up on trucks, but for what purpose, Vincent couldn’t discern.

“So why have you been staying in Costa del Sol? Any reason?” Tifa spoke up.

Cloud quietly groaned. Though Vincent couldn’t see Cloud’s face in that moment, he could guess he was rolling his eyes. “That’s not important,” Cloud argued. “We’re here to watch, not chat.”

“I know,” Tifa conceded. “But we’re going to be here for hours. I figured we could talk a bit.”

“Isn’t that what phone calls are for?” Cloud retorted, not daring to tear his eyes away from the reactor below them. “For catching up in between missions.”

“Like you would know. You never answer the phone,” Tifa pointed out, growing a tad annoyed. “Even Vincent is better at answering his phone.”

Vincent found that surprising. Well, he guessed the longer he thought about it, he did always try to pick up if someone called him. He simply wasn’t the best at reaching out first. Cloud seemed to have a different problem when it came to cell phones, at least according to Tifa.

The comment about Cloud’s cell phone habits seemed to shut him up for now. Tifa had won this fight.

“So why Costa del Sol?” she asked, glancing over at Vincent as she returned to her question. “Maybe it’s the beach? I know I enjoyed it the last time I was there.”

“No,” Vincent replied, not entirely sure why he was still indulging Tifa’s questions. He definitely wasn't used to talking about himself. “I’ve been staying with… a friend.”   


Just saying the words made something inside Vincent feel off. A friend? Is that what Leya was? The members of AVALANCHE were his friends. That was the only point of reference he had for friendship. So by comparing the dynamics he shared with the two people beside him and the dynamic he had with Leya… Something didn’t add up.

Vincent didn’t know how to describe it. He trusted his teammates with his life. He knew that they would always have his back and be there for him if he asked, especially in combat. Yet, in a completely different way, Leya also had his back. Sure, she didn’t know how to fight, but she supported him — even when he didn’t think he needed support.

His relationship with her was built on more than trust… but Vincent wasn’t sure what else it was.

“A friend?” Tifa repeated, a little confused.

Cloud chimed in too. “You have friends outside of AVALANCHE?”

“I guess so,” Vincent replied, not sure how to elaborate.

Tifa kept the conversation going. “Who are they? What are they like?”

“She’s… normal,” he answered, searching for the ideal word. “A local. I met her a year ago.”

“Oh?” Tifa looked over at Cloud, trying to grab his attention as she gave him wide eyes. He kept his attention on the reactor, only half listening to this whole line of questioning.

“You’ve known her for a year and you haven’t mentioned her before?” Tifa continued to question. “What kind of friend is she?”   


Vincent huffed. He wasn’t expecting an interrogation on his personal life when he signed up for this mission. “I haven’t known her for long. I just came back to visit her. To keep a promise,” he explained briefly. This whole topic felt like a can of worms Vincent didn’t want to open right now.

“Hmm… I see,” Tifa murmured, nodding her head to herself as she took in the information.

“We really should get back to the mission,” Cloud interrupted, glaring over at his two dark haired friends. “I don’t want to get caught because we were talking too much.”

Vincent hummed, agreeing with Cloud’s point. They had more important things to be doing right now. Besides, all of this talk of him and Leya had Vincent’s head reeling. He needed to focus and clear his mind.

“And what happens if we do get caught, huh?” Tifa chided, giving Cloud a slight tease. “You shouldn’t worry. We all know how to handle Shinra soldiers at this point. Besides, didn’t Stella give you some gadgets just in case?”

“Yeah, she did,” Cloud replied, looking down at his bag at his side for a moment. “She was worried we might get into trouble. Wanted us to have a backup plan.”

“We won’t need them,” Vincent added. “The three of us can handle it.”

Tifa rubbed the back of her neck. “We’ll be fine. This is a stealth mission after all. The idea is that we shouldn’t have to fight. Stella’s tech is only our Plan B.”

The three all nodded in sync, understanding the situation at hand.

A quiet aura settled in around the group as they committed themselves to focusing on their mission for real now. Even Tifa seemed satisfied after asking all of her questions and had settled in for the long haul. Vincent did not feel as focused as he should have been. While his body was still, his eyes laser focused on the target before him, his mind was wandering significantly. All of this talk of Leya had him… concerned.

Was she okay back in Costa del Sol by herself? She was used to being alone, right? Vincent figured they were one in the same in that manner. But loneliness didn’t suit Leya like it did Vincent. The image of her sad face was burned in his mind, wrapped up in her blanket as she watched him walk out the door that morning. She wanted him to stay, hadn’t she? But he couldn’t turn down Cloud when he needed his help.

But what if Leya needed his help? All alone in that house, going to work by herself. Vincent couldn’t help but worry for her safety. Shinra had managed to break in while he had been staying with her. They sure as hell could do worse with him momentarily out of the picture.

Vincent’s heart skipped a beat. He should be focused on the danger of their mission, but instead, he was thinking about Leya’s supposed danger. Unfortunately, Vincent knew there was nothing he could do now. He was stuck in Mount Corel for the next 24 hours, if not more. Leya would have to wait. She would have to stay safe on her own for now.

A small sigh escaped Vincent’s mouth, the sound catching Tifa’s attention for a brief second. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reopened them, clearing away the thoughts of his blonde friend waiting for him back down the mountain. They would both have to wait for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you're probably wondering, "Who the heck is Stella?"  
> If you are, then you should absolutely check out my friend's FFVII story "Chin up, Buttercup." She's writing an amazing Cloud x OC story, and we've decided to connect our two stories for the fun of it! If you love some good slow burn fic, go give her story a read!  
> Again, it's "Chin up, Buttercup" by themostcleverandwittyname.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! I'm almost done with school for this semester, so hopefully I can write a WHOLE LOT more once my summer break starts. Expect more chapters in the future! :)


	13. Too Many Pies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leya struggles to deal with her worries about Vincent since he left town two days ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya girl is finally done with this semester of school! WOO-HOO! lol. I don't have to go back until August, so I'm hoping to write and draw a lot over the summer. Expect more updates!

Leya could hardly believe she ever used to sit still at her job for hours at a time and actually enjoy it. The tourist center desk used to be a place she enjoyed frequenting. It gave her the opportunity to see tons of new people and contribute to her home community. For countless days she had sat there with bright eyes and a wide smile, eager to help those in need.

Now she wanted nothing more than to go home as soon as possible. Sure, she still loved her job deep, deep down, but this awful feeling settling in her stomach made Leya yearn to be freed from her imprisonment behind her desk.

She sat on her stool, pencil in hand, tapping absentmindedly against the side of her leg as she stared out into space. Usually, Leya had a habit of staring out at the people who passed by, fascinated by their unique appearances. Today, however, she found herself locked on to nothing in particular, the world blurring around her as she gave into her boredom. The only thing she could think of was her uneasiness.

It had been two days since Vincent had promptly left for his mission with AVALANCHE. Leya truly wanted to believe that she wasn’t the type to worry when it was uncalled for, but here she was, stewing in her overwhelming anxiety about her crush. It was true that Vincent was unbelievably capable of taking care of himself. He had proven that the night of the break-in. If the other members of Avalanche were anything like him, Leya knew without a doubt that they would all be safe.

And yet, her worries persisted. The dread festering inside of her wasn’t like anything she had known. Even when her dad left home to travel across the ocean back to Midgar, she wasn’t this concerned. Leya always had faith in his safe arrival. The feelings she currently had about Vincent were ten times worse, if not more. She couldn’t stop herself from constantly wondering and theorizing and planning and pondering.

What if he didn’t come back? What if they needed backup? What if something went wrong? What would they do if someone got hurt? Where were they? Could they flee safely if they needed to?   


All of these questions and more incessantly buzzed around in Leya’s head. Part of her wished she was there with Vincent, just to see that he was safe, despite knowing the dangers she would face as a civilian wrapped up in their line of work. Honestly, what she really dreamed was that he was back home already. The longer and longer he was away from her, the stronger the grip her anxieties had on her.

Things around the house had grown so quiet without him. Vincent by nature wasn’t a loud individual, but he still had his own way of dampening the silence. She had grown accustomed to the sound of him pacing around the house, the clunky soles of his boots thudding against her hardwood floors. It was a way of making his presence known to her and it had become an odd comfort. Leya couldn’t remember the last time she had someone staying with her for this long. Having Vincent around felt so… delightful.

With him gone, the house had returned to a taunting state of quiet. Leya had known that silent aura for longer than she cared to admit. It mocked her, teased her. It reminded her that she was alone.

Heaving a sigh, Leya set her pencil down, accepting defeat. She wasn’t in the mood to draw today. She knew she didn’t have it in her to focus long enough to capture someone's essence on paper.

Her only reprieve was knowing that her shift would end any minute now. It had been rough to wake up earlier than usual to take the morning shift, but she was sort of thankful. Leya couldn’t imagine having the energy to deal with the evening crowd, not with her current state of mind. At least this way, she could go home and sulk.

She grabbed her bag off of the floor and stuck her sketchbook back inside. She hadn’t even opened it, and yet it had sat on her lap all throughout her shift. Leya then positioned the strap of her bag over her shoulder, securing it into place.

Any minute now, her coworker would show up. Leya couldn’t recall who was on the clock after her, not that it particularly mattered. Anyone would do, as long as she got to go home.

Leya tapped her foot impatiently and returned to her distant daze as she waited. She was so zoned out that she hardly realized her coworker had arrived a few minutes later, standing awkwardly in front of the desk as he tried to get her attention.

“Uhh… Leya?” he called out, waving his hand in front of her face. It was enough to snap her back into reality.

She blinked her eyes, quickly adjusting before recognizing the man before her.

_ So Chex was picking up the next shift.  _ Leya thought to herself.  _ Well, at least the ladies will be happy. _

Chex was the ideal guy most tourist girls would look for when they came to Costa del Sol. He was tall (though not as tall as Vincent) and his quaffed light brown hair added an extra inch or so to his overall height. Where Leya was more sunkissed, Chex was definitely tan, and he had a body that looked nice with his shirt off. A younger Leya had made the mistake of flirting with him only to find out he wasn’t her type. Oh well. They got along amiably despite their  _ past _ .

“Hey, Chex,” she greeted him, shaking her head a bit to get rid of the last ounce of her head fog. “Sorry about that. Boring shift.” She chuckled awkwardly for a moment, knowing that he would understand well enough.

He shrugged in response — his way of saying it was no big deal. “Your boyfriend not coming to get ya?” Chex asked her, taking a quick look around the area in front of the tourist stall.

“Boyfriend?” Leya repeated.

“Yeah. That lanky vampire-looking dude.”

“Oh! You mean Vincent. He’s not—” Leya stopped herself. She was right, of course. Vincent wasn’t her boyfriend, but defining who he was to her wasn’t a simple task. He felt like more than a friend to Leya, but she knew Vincent’s lack of confirmed romantic feelings left her in the friendzone. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Riiiiight…” Chex replied, obviously not buying it. “Well, let me in already, will ya?”

“Oh! Of course.”

Leya pushed her stool back against the wall of the tiny stall so she would have room to unlatch the desk and let Chex in. After a few simple motions, she had the stall open, and now that there was nothing caging her in, Leya exited the beloved hole-in-the-wall and moved to the side, giving Chex room to enter.

“You okay, Leya?” Chex spoke up as he fastened the makeshift counter back into position, trapping himself in. He propped his arm up on the counter and rested his chin in his hand. “You seem kind of out of it, ya know? Need me to beat someone up for ya?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at his suggestion. “I’ll be fine,” Leya insisted. “Don’t worry about me. Just missing my vampire friend.”

“Hey, if he breaks your heart, I’ll punch him in the gut, ya hear? I won’t hesitate, I swear.”

Leya laughed even more. “Okay, that was the kind of pick-me-up I really needed. Thanks.”

“Don’t make fun of me! I mean it! I’ll take him on.”   


“You couldn’t even get one punch in,” Leya taunted, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as she prepared to leave. “But I appreciate the sentiment, Chex. Thanks. I’ll see you later.” She waved goodbye and took off down the cobbled street before her coworker could add anything else to the conversation.

Leya could feel herself zoning out once more as she took the familiar route back to her home. It was as if her body went on auto-pilot, guiding her back as her mind wandered to whatever corner of the planet Vincent currently resided.

She debated giving Vincent a call on her cellphone but a new wave of anxiety-fueled questions rushed in. What if his phone went off and blew his cover? What if the jingle distracted him and he got hurt? Leya knew without a doubt she wouldn't be able to live with herself if something went wrong because of her. Regardless, the temptation to check-in remained. For now, she would have to stay in the dark.

In a matter of minutes, Leya arrived at the front of her childhood house. It was a comforting sight. While there were days that Costa del Sol felt like one big beautiful cage, her home was always a place of solace. It was what she needed right now.

Stepping inside, Leya unzipped her thigh-high boots and kicked them off to the side, eager to be freed from their confinement. She hung her bag on the coat rack by the door and then headed into the kitchen. As she stepped onto the tile and approached her island, Leya caught sight of the pies she had baked yesterday evening. In the midst of her anxious fog, Leya had needed something — anything — to distract herself. In the end, she had chosen baking.

Her line of thought had been that she would bake a dessert to surprise Vincent with when he returned. She had a recipe for blueberry pie and thankfully had the ingredients, so she made it in no time. Unfortunately for her, as the pie sat in the oven, slowly crisping to a golden brown tint, Leya had a troubling thought.

What if Vincent didn’t like blueberries? He hadn’t mentioned his fruit preference before, so she couldn’t stop herself from worrying that her efforts would be wasted when he came home. The last thing she wanted was for him to come home and be disappointed.

While the blueberry pie finished cooking, Leya decided to whip up another one, this time with some cherries she had bought the other day. That way he would have another option if he didn’t like blueberry.

But… What if he didn’t really care for sweets? What if he came home and didn’t want to rot his teeth on her sugary baked goods? That line of thought forced Leya to scramble together enough ingredients to make a chicken pot pie as well.

By the time her third pie was finished baking yesterday, it had been well after midnight. And yet, despite her fatigue from baking all evening, she still didn’t sleep well that night.

Now Leya stood in her kitchen, staring down at the two desserts, knowing that the third pie was in the fridge. All three were mocking her.

“I’m a fucking mess,” she sighed, totally and completely exasperated.

There wasn’t a single time in her life that Leya could remember when one individual had invaded every inch of her mind like this, waking or sleeping. Vincent was all she thought about, worried about. She wanted to make him happy. She wanted him to be safe. She wanted him back in her home, back within reach… She wanted to take his hand, pull him close and —

“No… No. Don’t think about that.”

She rubbed her temple, sensing a headache coming on.

Leya felt like a fool. She knew it was her own damn fault. What did she think was going to happen when she invited a handsome man to stay in her house? Indefinitely? When she knew from the start that she had feelings for him… It was a recipe for disaster that she put together with an ignorant smile on her face. Leya felt desperate. Leya felt stupid. Most of all, Leya felt like she was in love.

It was dumb really, falling for an immortal. Like something out of a romance story. But once she started down this hill, she couldn’t stop rolling and rolling and rolling until she was plummeting at full speed. There were only two ways to stop now. Either she’d fall into Vincent and they would blissfully tumble onwards together, or she would crash against a tree and break every bone in her body. Leya swore she could see that tree getting closer and closer.

She had told him she liked him. She had tried to show him how she felt. She held his hand. She invited him on little dates. But as much as she felt like she was making progress, Vincent would look back at her every day with the same blank expression. Most days, Leya could barely look at him without feeling nauseous and flustered. Yet almost every time, he looked at her like she was no different than a stranger.

So that’s why the pies glared up at her, flavored with mockery. She knew that they were just another attempt at getting Vincent to like her more. Surely they would fail like everything else she had done. Her attempts at catering to his taste preferences would all be for nothing. These pies were worthless.

Leya took a deep breath. _Woah there,_ she thought to herself. _Take it easy._ _You’re being hard on yourself._

Stepping back away from the counter, Leya formulated a new plan. She opened her fridge, grabbed the pot pie she had crafted yesterday and took it to the oven. With the press of a few buttons, the machine began to preheat. This pie was no longer for Vincent. It was for her now and she was going to eat it and sob if she felt like it. It would have to be enough self care for now.

When the oven beeped, signaling that it had reached the optimal temperature, Leya stuck the pie in and set the timer. It would be ready for her in just a few minutes. For now, she’d have to wait.

Leya made her way over to her couch in the adjacent living room, plopping down on the worn cushions. As she took a deep breath to calm herself down, she also unpinned her name tag from her dress and removed her jewelry. She had various rings and necklaces that, while they looked cute, were a nuisance to wear sometimes. Now feeling more free, she laid down on her back on the couch.

Leya wasn’t sure how long she laid there like that, staring up at the ceiling as her mind wandered to and fro. It felt like hours, but since her oven timer hadn’t gone off yet, she knew it would only be a matter of minutes. She was about to close her eyes when she heard the roar of an engine growing louder outside. Could it be?

She hopped off the couch and scrambled towards her front door, her feet struggling to keep up with her level of enthusiasm. Leya didn’t even bother wasting time to check out the windows for Vincent. She went straight to the door, unlocking the deadbolt and swinging it open in anticipation.

Turning down the street perched atop his bike was none other than Vincent Valentine. He barely had time to park on the curb before Leya ran down the length of her yard to greet him.

“Vincent!” she cheered, bouncing ever so slightly in place as she waited for him to slide off of his bike. Leya started to open her arms, her gut reaction to go in for a warm embrace, but she hesitated. Her mind told her it was a bad idea, a bold choice.

After feeling like shit all day, Leya frankly didn’t care what she thought anymore. She made her move, wrapping her arms around his slender frame and clasping them in the back. Her nose buried itself into the worn fabric of his crimson cloak. Much like the last time she had hugged him, she felt him squirm a second underneath her grasp before settling in. This time, however, she felt the weight of his right hand rest carefully on her lower back while his left hand — the one adorned with a gold gauntlet — hovered over her shoulder blades.

He was… hugging her back?

Leya wasn’t going to waste this moment. She snuggled in a little closer, releasing a built-up sigh, feeling her anxieties washing away already.

“You’re back,” she murmured, too overcome with emotion to speak louder. She could feel tears pooling in her eyes, but she was trying her hardest not to let them spill over. “And you’re okay?” The last part came out as a question.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I’m fine.”

“I’m so thankful… I was worried about you,” Leya admitted.

“Hmm,” was all he said back. She could feel his chest rumbling beneath her as he hummed. Leya felt like she could melt right then and there.

“Umm… A-Are you hungry? I have a pie warming in the oven,” Leya added, trying desperately to sound casual.

“Hmm, sure,” Vincent answered. He started to move, signalling to her that he was done with the hug. 

Leya willingly let go and took a few steps back. The butterflies were back in her stomach already… but these were the good kind, full of happiness, not stress.

Turning back towards the entrance to the house, she then said, “I hope you have room for dessert, too. I, uh, accidently made two pies.”

“I’ll try my best,” Vincent replied.

Leya giggled. Just having him home made her feel so much better. In practically an instant, her daunting fears were washed away. Maybe it was foolish of her to have her wellbeing so closely woven to another person’s existence, but… for now, she was happy to stay blissfully ignorant.

The two of them entered the house, Leya practically skipping the whole way. Her kitchen timer was going off in the background, so as much as she wanted to stay by Vincent’s side, she headed into the kitchen to take out the pot pie. He quickly unfastened his cloak, set it on the coat rack and headed straight for the living room. He immediately slunk down onto the couch. Even from across the open room, she could hear him heaving a sigh. 

This wasn’t like him… Leya had never seen him this exhausted before. She bit her lip for a second as she pondered, but the blaring ringing of the oven timer jolted her back into reality soon enough. She slipped on her oven mitts and pulled the pie out from the oven. A wave of savory smells wafted out, causing Leya’s mouth to salivate almost instantly. She couldn’t remember the last time she had made pot pie, and now, it felt like an even more joyous occasion since Vincent was back.

She rested the hot pie down on top of the stove, and while the oven was still hot, she took the blueberry pie off the island counter and stuck it in to reheat. Leya stared at the cherry pie for a long second before putting it in as well. Better to be safe than sorry.

“Stay there,” she called out to Vincent. “I’ll plate you up a piece and bring it over there.”

“Okay,” he replied, just loud enough for her to hear.

After grabbing two plates from her cabinets, Leya took a spatula out of one of her utensil drawers and served two generous portions of pie. She then proceeded to walk back and forth from the kitchen to the coffee table by the couch until she had brought over everything they would need to eat. Silverware. Napkins. An iced glass of water. Salt. Pepper. The whole kitchen sink.

Leya finally plopped down in her spot next to Vincent on the couch, ready to eat. He was fidgeting with the metallic gauntlet on his arm, carefully trying to take it off. When it finally released, he set it down next to the pile of Leya’s jewelry on the coffee table. Looks like they both had their own ways of winding down.

“You don’t happen to have any wine, do you?” Vincent asked as he reached for the plate in front of him.

Leya watched him intently. He almost always had some bags under his eyes, but they seemed even darker today. Had he gotten any rest the past few days? He just looked so… drained to her. On a usual day for them, when they got back to the house after dinner or something, Leya had started to pick up on how Vincent would be a little socially exhausted and eager for some quiet time. This was different from that. If Leya had to guess, he was mere hours away from collapse. She would have to save her pressing questions about his mission for later.

Picking up her own plate, she answered his question. “My dad might have something in the cabinets. I, uh, don’t drink usually, so I don’t know for sure.”

“Hmm…”

“I can get it for you?” she offered. “If it helps you wind down...” Her voice trailed off.

“I’ll look later,” Vincent replied. “Don’t bother.”

Even his voice seemed to give away his fatigue. It made Leya’s heart ache.

“Thank you,” he added a second later. “For dinner.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” Leya replied, still a little downtrodden. “I made it for you after all. I’m glad you made it back in time to eat.”

“Me too,” Vincent admitted, finally taking his first bite of dinner. He didn’t give much of a reaction to prove if he liked it or not. When he went in for a second bite, Leya figured he liked it well enough.

They sat in silence for a long moment, both taking bites of their food and occasionally sipping water. Vincent was never much for conversation, but today, Leya felt herself at a loss for words. She had been so worried the past few days, her head constantly streaming concern after concern. Now she could barely think of anything to say. She was content enough that he was home. That was all she needed.

“Leya?” he spoke up.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad to be back.”

It was a simple gesture but an immense one at the same time. He didn’t need to elaborate for Leya to be touched. Just the fact that he said anything on the matter was proof enough to her that he cared. When Vincent bothered to speak, it was usually because he had something honest to say.

“Me too, Vincent. Me too,” Leya admitted, smiling as she took another bite.

It was nice to have Vincent Valentine back within reach once again.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, and all of the other wonderful things you do to show your support! It makes my day to see you all enjoying the story.
> 
> I'll see you next update! :)


	14. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent wakes up in the middle of the night after having another awful nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the longer wait between updates! I'm sure no one noticed the pause, but, I took some time to write a little ahead and it kind of threw me off my game plan. I'm still trying to sort some stuff out with the story, but don't worry! I'll sort things out and be back on track in no time.  
> Enjoy the new chapter!

Vincent knew he was on the verge of dying.

He didn’t have to look around to know that he was injured. His body severely stung in more than one place but hurt the most in his chest. Vincent couldn't move his limbs to check, but he knew the pain was emanating from a bullet wound. Call it intuition. Call it years of experience.

Liquid was rapidly filling his lungs, and though he somehow knew he could still breathe, his throat was burning. His whole body was burning.

His vision was also blurry, everything around him so dark and desolate. He couldn’t quite pinpoint his location at first. All he saw was the glass wall of his containment unit. Everything beyond it was a black void. Vincent didn’t have to guess where he was for much longer though. The sound of heinous laughter in the distance gave him all the information he needed. He knew exactly where he was.

  
Betrayed. Shot. Experimented on. It all came flooding back to him, like a tidal wave of traumatic memories. He was back in the Shinra Mansion. Back in the basement. Back with Hojo.

Vincent winced, the pain growing too much to bear. He was holding on by mere threads. He knew if he just let go, death would come and he’d finally be at peace. Every ounce of his soul was crying out for reprieve. It was so close… He could feel it, touch it.

His eyelids started to close as he accepted his end, but something caught his eye. A figure approached the container he was imprisoned in, as if emerging from black fog.

_ No. No… I don't want to see you. _

The figure rested a hand against the glass. Vincent could see it in perfect clarity. So delicate and slender and adorned with a ring, as if taunting him.

_ Lucrecia _ .

Vincent suddenly was gasping for air, jolting up into a seated position. His chest heaved up and down rapidly as he tried to breathe and tried to calm down. The only sensation he could feel for a moment was the sweat pooling across his body, especially on his back and lower neck. Everything else felt numb or stiff. His limbs were barely responding to his input.

He continued to breathe unevenly, mind completely whirling. He could hardly think, hardly focus on anything. The key to calming down was to focus. Find something around him. Use it to ground himself.

Vincent’s hands tightened around the sheets below him (thankfully he had regained control of his fingers). Smooth. Kind of silky. He didn’t know the name of the fabric but it was cool to the touch. He was in Leya’s guest bedroom… Leya. Leya’s house. Costa del Sol. He was safe.

Slowly, breath by breath, Vincent could feel himself coming back down from his panic. It was okay. He was okay. Nothing he saw was real, not anymore. That had been over thirty years ago. Nothing to get worked up over. He was okay.

“Fuck,” Vincent sighed, his breathing finally starting to normalize. The curse felt cathartic rolling off his tongue. A small reprieve for now.

When all feeling returned to Vincent’s body, he slowly slid off the bed and walked over to the closet. His earlier intuition was correct: he had soiled his shirt with his own sweat. However, this wasn’t his first time waking up like this, and he figured it wouldn’t be his last. Carefully, Vincent grabbed the shirt off his back and lifted it up and over his head and off of his body. The motion released his long black locks, allowing them to cascade down against his bare skin. The sensation was shockingly cold. His sweat must have soaked into his hair too. Lovely…

_ I’ll just pull it up,  _ Vincent thought to himself as he dropped his dirty shirt into his pile of laundry stashed away in the closet. He approached the wooden dresser on the far side of the room, hoping to find his makeshift hair ribbon, but instead stopped dead in his tracks in front of the mirror.

Every fiber of his being wanted to look away but he couldn’t. He was frozen in disgust. Littered across his pale skin were deep, jagged, and ugly scars. Some of the small ones were from accidents while on the job — both the Turks and AVALANCHE — but the truly nasty ones were from  _ Him _ . The largest scar Vincent had, an explosive array of damaged skin, was the result of being shot in the chest point blank. The rest of the scars were friendly reminders of what he had done to Vincent. A gift left over after cutting him open and poorly stitching him back together. One would assume Vincent would be used to seeing them after nearly 30 years, but alas, they still tormented him everytime he saw his reflection.

_ You look like a monster. _

He couldn't stop himself from thinking it. Vincent knew it was the truth.

He managed to close his eyes, breaking direct contact with his own reflection. Breathing in and out, he readjusted himself. It’s fine. He was fine. He would just ask Leya later for a cloth or a blanket or something to cover the mirror. He was tired of looking at himself. It wasn’t a big deal.

Carefully, he opened his eyes, but braced himself for what he might once again see in the mirror. Thankfully, this time he managed to keep his gaze down. This way, he could search for the dumb hair tie and move on with this horrendous night. The strip of fabric was right where he expected it to be, waiting patiently to be used. Vincent picked it up and quickly fastened his hair up. He just wanted it off of his skin, at least until he could shower or put on a new shirt.

Right. Of course. He needed something else to wear.

Vincent quickly left the dresser and returned to the corner of the bedroom where the closet resided. It was still open from a moment ago, so he peered inside, looking for another one of his long sleeve tops. It was strange to have so many options to wear, but Vincent didn’t dwell on it for long. He just chose one, pulled it off the rack, and slipped it on. 

There. That was better.

Since he was already at his closet, he went ahead and tugged off his pants (Leya insisted that he needed pajama pants specifically for sleeping) and put on something else more suited for going outside. After that nightmare, there was no way he was going back to sleep tonight. Getting out of the house might help clear his head though.

Knowing that his boots would be by the front door, Vincent left his bedroom and trodded down the stairs, trying to remain quiet for fear of waking Leya up. Vincent hadn’t bothered checking the time when he woke up, but it had to be late in the night. Regardless, he didn’t want to subject her to his same nocturnal fate.

As he approached the front door, a voice caught his attention.

“Vincent?”

He turned around and saw Leya curled up in a blanket on the couch, a cup of steaming liquid — he didn’t know what kind — in her hands. Judging by the expression on her face, she had to be sleepy. Vincent knew the look of fatigue like the back of his hand.

“Leya? Why are you up?” he greeted with a question. Vincent tried his best to compose himself. She wasn’t supposed to see him this frazzled.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she giggled softly. When he didn’t speak up, she continued. “I, uh, was having a hard time falling asleep. It happens every now and then. I just came downstairs for some tea.”

She set down her glass on the coffee table, unfurled herself out of her blanket, and stood up. Vincent noted that her hair was completely down for once, no pins or ties keeping it in place. The only thing she had on was a large oversized tee shirt and a pair of patterned tube socks.

“Want me to make you a cup? I think I still have some water in the kettle. It always helps me fall back asleep. Though…” Leya looked down at her socks. “Um, if you were planning on heading out, you can. Don’t let me stop you.”

Vincent shook his head a bit. “No. Not anymore,” he explained briefly. “I’ll take the tea.” It would have been easier to just leave right then and there. Going for a walk tended to clear his head, but something about the thought of leaving Leya there alone forced Vincent to stay.

He watched as she smiled slightly, seemingly pleased with his choice. Just looking at her felt so comforting after the shit he had seen up in his bedroom, both real and imaginary. She was so soft, so happy. It was a stark contrast to the sharp pain that lingered in his mind.

“Sit down, and I’ll get you some,” Leya told him, breaking his train of thought.

“Right… Thanks.”

She scuttled out of the living room and headed into the kitchen. Vincent took it upon himself to sit down on the couch next to where Leya’s blanket sat draped across the cushions. This was the first time they had both ever woken up in the middle of the night. What was on Leya’s mind tonight? He stopped to wonder if she had a nightmare too. What kind of nightmares would a girl like Leya have? Vincent prayed she would never have to experience anything like his dreams.

In a few quick moments, Leya returned with another mug. This one was yellow with a daisy painted on the side. Just her style. She sat down the mug in front of Vincent, placing beside it a spoon and a packet of sugar.

“I didn’t know how you liked your tea, so I just put in a little bit of milk and left it at that,” she explained while crawling back into her position on the couch.

“This is fine,” he reassured her. Carefully, he picked up the mug and held it in his hands. The warm temperature felt soothing against his skin. He hoped the contents inside would have a similar relaxing effect.

“You okay?” Leya asked him. “You seem… shaken up or something.”

“It’s nothing,” he lied. The last thing he wanted was to dump his trauma on her. Better to leave himself alone in the dark. He was used to being alone.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pry or anything, but I’m here to listen.”

It was sweet of her to offer. More than sweet, it was true kindness. Her actions reminded him of some of the other AVALANCHE members and the genuine care and concern they showed. Vincent never expected kindness to be directed towards him but somehow kept receiving it. Whether it was a friendly phone call from Tifa or a thoughtful new weapon upgrade from Cloud or a surprise visit from Yuffie. His friends always managed to see through his sadness and bring him closer to the light. Leya seemed to be no different.

“It’s… Lucrecia,” he finally spoke up. It was a half answer for now. Hojo was the real thing that bothered him, but Vincent sought to spare Leya from the gorey details of his experimentations. Besides, Lucrecia was still a factor in all of his trauma.

“Lucrecia?” Leya repeated back to him. The name sounded so odd coming from her lips. A name from his past colliding with a person from his present. “That was the woman you used to work with, right? The one that you… fell in love with?”

He nodded his head, finally taking a sip of the tea she prepared for him. He didn’t know anything about different types of tea, but this one tasted nice to him. Not too sweet. It was a well-needed comfort as they dove into this conversation.

Vincent briefly sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Yes,” he admitted, not sure what else to say.

“Did you dream about her?” Leya asked.

He nodded again. “More of a nightmare honestly.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry, Vincent,” she said, voicing her sympathies.

Sympathy was so foreign to Vincent. He was used to fear. He saw it in the eyes of almost everyone he crossed paths with. He was slowly coming to terms with happier emotions thanks to his friends in AVALANCHE, but even then… He wasn’t used to anyone feeling sorry for him.

“Everything with her happened years ago. It’s not a big deal,” he responded, trying to dissuade her.

“Do you… want to walk me through it? It might help to talk about it all to someone,” Leya offered. She took a sip of her tea and then continued. “I’m not a therapist, but I can definitely listen.”

_ Therapy, huh? Might as well give it a shot. _

Vincent’s hopes weren’t too high, but as he sat there in his exasperated state, he realized he didn’t have the energy to keep his walls up any longer. Leya was going to get to see a rare unfiltered side of him whether she liked it or not at this point. Besides, if things went sour, he could always pack up his bags and leave. He was good at that.

“Lucrecia was… warm,” he began to explain, his mind going off to distant memories as he stared down into his tea. “Her smile was the softest one I had seen in so long. I was still grieving my father and having her kindness around was… comforting. She would join me on this hill outside of Nibelheim. We’d enjoy the sun and eat from her picnic basket. I… I had never felt so… happy.”

Leya sat still across from him, her tired eyes locked on him as he spoke.

“I knew quickly that I loved her. There was no other way to describe it. It had to be love,” Vincent continued. “But when I told her how I felt, she… couldn’t accept it. I know now that she was dealing with her own grief. My confession was too much for her to bear.” He took a sip of his beverage, trying to collect his thoughts. “But as much as it hurt for her to reject me, it was worse seeing her fall for that bastard, Hojo.”

He paused, realizing how selfish his last statement sounded.

“It didn’t hurt more because I wanted to take his place, even if that was the case,” Vincent clarified. “I truly wanted her to be safe and happy, and she was neither of those when she married him.”

“And… then things went south?” Leya commented, helping him move the story forward.

He nodded his head. “Yes. Her pregnancy became their newest experiment. I was worried for her and for the baby. Lucrecia wasn’t acting the same anymore. But when I confronted them…” He let out a deflated scoff. “They told me I was the crazy one."

“You just wanted to help.”   


“Yes. I wanted to help save her and save the child,” Vincent agreed. “But Hojo shot me for interfering and took my dying body as an opportunity for a new experiment.”   


Vincent sat his cup of tea down on the table in front of them. His head dipped down and he stared at his feet firmly planted on the floor. He couldn’t believe the words about to come out of his mouth.

“I wanted to die, Leya, and I did,” he confessed, raw pain emanating from his voice. “It hurt so much. The torture. The procedures… all on top of my heart aching for Lucrecia. I wanted it to be over, and for a short period, it was.”   


“Then she brought you back?”

“Yes… and I thought it was a punishment for a long time. For not saving her, I had to atone for all of eternity. It was my fault for not acting.”

Vincent sighed, moving his body to recline back into the couch. It was quiet in the house for a moment before sad laughter erupted from his chest. It made Leya jolt in her seat on the couch.

“I actually believed it was  _ my _ fault that  _ they _ decided to fuck up their child. I thought I needed to atone for not trying to stop them.” Vincent ran his hands through his bangs. “But I did try. Fuck, I tried… and it cost me everything.”

“And the nightmare?” Leya spoke up, redirecting them back to the reason for their conversation. Her voice was still calm and soft despite his growing frustration.

“She shows up when I sleep, taunting me, reminding me that I’ll never be rid of her and her bastard husband. Suddenly, I’m trapped where I was 30 years ago and the exact same pain rushes back to me,” Vincent told Leya. “When I see her, I don’t see someone I fell in love with. After everything that happened, I don’t know what love is anymore. She took that away from me.”

“I’m sorry, Vincent.” Her voice was accompanied by her gentle touch. She had placed her hand on his leg, probably trying to comfort him, he guessed. 

When he didn’t continue his rant, Leya decided to speak instead. “Love is… messy. I wish it could always be clean and happy, but it’s not.” A sad smile spread across her lips. “It hurts to be vulnerable and it sucks when we get stabbed in the back. But if we don’t open ourselves up to the possibility of love? We will never have the chance to feel something wonderful.”

Her words resonated with Vincent and he turned his head to make eye contact with Leya. Something about her looked so… honest. In her pajamas with her hair undone, no makeup, bags under her eyes. She had nothing to hide from him.

Had he ever seen Lucrecia like that?

Their relationship, if it could even be called that, was almost strictly professional. He only saw her at work in the mansion or on their picnic breaks. Reflecting over it now, Vincent realized Lucrecia always had a shield up from day one. He had been vulnerable, trying to be open to the possibility of love, and she never opened up in return. He still didn’t blame her too harshly because he knew that grief was difficult… But Vincent couldn’t shake the truth that her actions had irreversible consequences on his entire existence. She had broken his heart and literally made his life hell.

Leya in comparison had lowered her guard a long time ago. Ever since his unexpected arrival at the hospital. She had been so open and honest with him about her past, about her feelings. It was like Vincent was breathing clean air for the first time in his life. Her honesty was… refreshing. He truly felt in that moment that he could trust Leya with anything. Hell, she was sitting across from him right now listening to more of his damned sob story, and how was she reacting? With kindness.

“Thank you, Cattleya,” he finally responded. Vincent’s eyes remained on her, unable to tear away.

He watched as she looked away first, repositioning her gaze down to her hand on his leg. She had a smile on her face, but something about her seemed… odd. Were her cheeks a little flushed? Maybe it was the combination of the blanket and the hot tea.

“My name sounds fancy coming from your voice,” she admitted, giggling quietly to herself. “But really, I just want to help in any way you want me to.”

He nodded his head slightly, humming in acknowledgement.

Now that he felt like he had said everything he needed to say, Vincent stood up, stretching his legs after sitting in one place for a considerable amount of time. As much as their conversation seemed to ease his mind, Vincent still craved some time alone. Besides, he was already dressed, wasn’t he? Might as well follow through with his plans to go out.

“I’m going to go walk,” he informed Leya as he took strides over to the front door. “You should try to get some sleep.”

Vincent turned his head to look back at her, as if reading her mind. He caught her with her mouth open, about to speak.

“Don’t worry about me. Just rest,” he instructed her.

He could see her laughing a bit at his timely remark, but she ultimately gave in and didn’t make any comments about his safety.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Leya spoke.

“Hmm. Yes.”

Tomorrow. Another day. A chance to reset and start again. Time used to feel like such a chore before, but lately… it felt like an opportunity. Maybe Leya’s optimism was rubbing off on him after all of this time they had spent together. And maybe, that wasn’t a bad thing after all. The thought made Vincent grin subtly as he finished lacing his shoes so he could walk out the front door.

Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I played Dirge of Cerberus for the first time a week or so ago and it FUELED me to write this chapter. I know a lot of people have different opinions about Lucrecia compared to what is expressed in this chapter, but hey, this is a Vincent x OC fan fiction. Who's expecting a ton of "good" Lucrecia content? lol
> 
> But for real, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I hope to have more soon! I already have one more chapter written. I just need to figure out where it needs to go. :)
> 
> Thank you all for reading! See you next time.


	15. Everything Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Leya and Vincent spend their evening at the beach, Leya musters up her courage to be honest with Vincent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the long lapse in uploads... Please read the note at the end of the chapter. It's an important update on the future of this story.

It had become a regular occurance for Vincent and Leya to spend their evenings down by the ocean. In the middle of the day, the beating sun made it too hot outside for Vincent’s liking and the bustling crowd of tourists prevented them from having a quiet, relaxing time. Their compromise became frequent late night picnics and hang outs on the beach instead. With the sun starting to set, the temperatures would settle down into a more desirable range, and after dinner time, not nearly as many people visited the beach. For the unlikely pair, it was perfect.

Tonight was one of those nights where they decided to go out, taking with them plenty of blankets and snacks. The weekend was almost upon them and, according to Leya, it was the optimal time for them to celebrate another week coming to a close. Vincent followed along with her desires, content to be in her company, no matter what she was doing.

When they had gotten to the beach, it felt perfect outside. There was a gentle breeze in the air and the sky was starting to look like a vibrant painting. Leya immediately took off to go wade around in the chilly water while Vincent was left to set up their stuff. He didn’t mind though. In less than an hour, the water would be too cold, so Vincent let her enjoy it while she could.

He took Leya’s “beach blankets” — as she called them — and spread them carefully across the sand before sitting down so he could wait for her. Vincent had to admit it was kind of amusing to watch Leya run around the beach. She always seemed to have copious amounts of energy, but when they came here, her enthusiasm skyrocketed. Something about being out here in nature seemed to fuel her. She would normally pace up and down the shore line, trying to keep her hair dry as she waded in as far as possible. Some days, an unexpected wave would hit her and she would come waddling up to Vincent, laughing infectiously. She was rarely bummed when they came here and instead frequently smiled. Vincent couldn’t remember the last time he saw someone this happy almost all of the time. 

Tonight, Leya didn’t spend nearly as much time in the water as she usually did. Instead, she paced around a bit, barely getting her ankles wet it seemed, before heading towards Vincent. When she plopped down next to him, Vincent couldn’t help but look at her, trying to figure out what could be different tonight. Unfortunately, no change seemed obvious to him.

“How was the water?” He asked her.

“It was nice,” she admitted, letting out a sigh. “I wish I could go for a swim though.”

“What’s stopping you?”

Leya looked over at him, her stormy eyes meeting his gaze. Vincent could see how the warm glow of the sunset really suited her. Both her golden blonde hair and her peachy skin almost glowed.

“Well,” she started, grinning a bit. “I don’t want to make you feel bad, but I don’t go swimming because of you.”

“Me?” he clarified, a little confused.

“Yeah! You don’t like to get wet and it’s not as much fun to go out there by myself,” Leya explained. “I’d rather sit here with you.”

“Oh.”

Even though her intent wasn’t to make him feel responsible, Vincent couldn't stop himself from feeling a little guilty regardless. She looked so happy out there. He never wanted to take that away from her. 

“Do you… want me to join you?” he offered. “I can get my feet wet at least.”

The look on her face was absolutely worth it. Leya beamed, her gray eyes practically sparkling. She had genuine happiness written all over her.

“Do you mean it—I mean, are you sure?” Leya asked excitedly, stumbling through her words.

He nodded his head to reassure her. She hopped off of the blanket in an instant, fidgeting in place as she waited for him to join her. Carefully, Vincent untied his boots and set them to the side on the blanket, hoping to avoid a sandy mess. One by one, he slipped off his socks and then rolled up his pants legs so they wouldn’t get soaked. When he was ready to go, he stood up and joined Leya at her side. He immediately didn’t care for the grainy sensation underneath his feet, but he had definitely felt worse. Eager to begin, Leya took his hand and skipped down the shoreline, tugging Vincent along behind her.

Leya headed into the foamy water first, using her free hand to bunch up her skirt and clutch it to her side out of harm’s way. Vincent followed in behind her, not wasting his time trying to act timid about it. Sure, he didn’t like the water, but it was nothing to be apprehensive about. Nothing could be worse than being waist deep in sewer water. The thought made Vincent chuckle for a second. He’d have to tell Leya that story one day.

Now that they were both within reach of the waves, their feet started to become part of the natural push and pull of the water. For one moment, there would be nothing to feel but wet sand beneath them, but as the waves creeped forward, their ankles would be swept underneath the water. 

Vincent knew it wasn’t much — he had seen her go much further in — but Leya seemed happy regardless. He was content to let her hold his hand and walk through the water with him. It was the least he could do.

“Thank you for coming out with me,” Leya spoke up randomly. “I know this isn’t really your thing, so I really appreciate it.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just a little bit of water,” he assured her.

“You aren’t afraid of the ocean, are you?”

Vincent looked over at her, baffled by her question. “No,” he answered bluntly. “I’ve seen too many horrors to be scared of something like the ocean.”

“O-Oh… Right.” She cleared her throat. “I was just, uh, checking… ya know?”

He turned his head back in front of them, her gaze too much to handle. He had ruined her moment, hadn’t he? No matter what happened, Vincent always ended up being a downer. At least, that’s how it felt to him. He stayed silent, not sure what else he could say that wouldn’t make matters worse.

“You know,” Leya began, thankfully changing the subject. “I really needed this extra time out here on the beach and in the water. I’ve been so anxious lately, and this always calms me down.”

“Anxious? About what?” he questioned.

“Um… it’s, uh… a lot of things, I guess,” Leya answered, her voice a little shaky.

“What sort of things?”

She didn’t answer right away, and Vincent wished he knew why. Even though Leya felt like one of the most honest people he knew, he still had a hard time understanding what she was thinking or feeling. He couldn’t read anyone’s body language if he was being honest, let alone hers.

“I’ve just, um, had a lot of my mind lately,” she finally admitted, keeping things vague.

Vincent was determined to get some sort of answer out of her. At least so he could understand and maybe try to help. “Lately? Since when?”

“O-Oh, uh…. Since, like, the other night,” Leya explained. “When we talked on the couch.”

“Oh.”

What sort of things were on her mind after  _ that _ conversation? Vincent wished he had any sort of clue. In retrospect, it had been foolish of him to be so blunt with her about his feelings, especially about Lucrecia. It was hard enough for him to try to explain his emotions to himself, let alone convey them to someone else. Surely he had just made a mess of the whole night by opening his mouth in the first place.

Yet, when it was all said and done, he had felt better after talking with her. The bad memories didn’t go away, of course, but they felt like less of a strain on Vincent. It was as if he had on a backpack full of rocks and she had come along and taken some out. He still had a significant amount of weight to carry but she had helped nonetheless. Now Vincent just hoped that he hadn’t inadvertently added more strain on her.

“Did I… say too much?” Vincent finally spoke up, daring to ask the question on his mind.

Leya immediately stopped in her tracks, turning to face him. “Oh god, no! Vincent, you could never say too much to me,” she assured him. “I’m just glad that you felt comfortable enough to be open and honest. It really does help to get that stuff off of your chest, and honestly, I’m always here to listen.”

“Hmm…”

Well, at least she didn’t seem to be upset over his baggage. One less thing for Vincent to be concerned about.

“Then why are you anxious?” he asked again, returning to the start of their conversation.

They stood there for a moment, their hands still linked as the waves continued to crash softly against their feet. Vincent had already gotten used to the lukewarm sensation and had almost forgotten they were out in the water anyway. The sun was now almost down completely but it held on, hugging the horizon. Leya squeezed his hand for a second before letting go of it.

“I think we should sit down and talk,” she suggested. So far, she hadn’t answered him, but Vincent could be patient.

The two of them walked back over to where they had set up their stuff earlier. Leya sat down on her blanket first, keeping her knees bent and pulling them close to her chest. She rested her head down on top, her eyes gazing out at the last moments of the daylight. Vincent watched her as he joined her on the ground. She looked so… guarded, he noticed. Like she was afraid and trying to protect herself. It made the fighter inside of him want to take care of whatever threat she was facing.

“I’m listening,” he said in his best gentle tone. “Whenever you’re ready.” It felt strange to be on the giving end of the  _ ‘therapy’ _ but he didn’t mind. He’d do just about anything to keep Leya happy.

“Well… I’ve just been thinking… about what we talked about the other night,” Leya began, remaining in her protective stance. “About… being open and vulnerable… about love and stuff.”

“Yes?” Vincent didn’t understand where this train of thought was going.

“And how it’s hard to do, but we have to try anyway if we ever want to be happy, right?”

He nodded his head, humming in agreement.

Slowly, Leya uncurled herself and repositioned so that he was facing him. She was closer now as well, not that the blanket gave them just room to be far apart. Still, she sat maybe only a foot away, her legs tucked to the side while her hands sat in her lap. Despite their proximity, her gaze was lowered, focused on her twiddling fingers.

“It’s just that… It’s hard to say it… But I just want to say that…” She struggled to start.

“Go ahead. It’s fine.”

“I, uh… know that I won’t be around forever, not with my medical condition, you know? The doctors all say that my life will be shorter than most.” She sighed, though he couldn’t tell if it was a good sigh or a bad one. “But that fact alone has made me try to be… uh, bolder, I guess you could say. More brave about doing things I want, about taking chances, about… being vulnerable.”   


“Right…”

“So, after we talked the other night… I just… couldn’t stop thinking about how I needed to be open with you,” she confessed.

Vincent’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “Open about what?”

“Well…” Her voice trailed off.

After a quiet moment, she raised her head, allowing their eyes to meet. Vincent could already see the tears starting to build up, seemingly despite her best efforts to keep them at bay.

“I… I love you, Vincent. I know it’s not practical or logical or whatever. I haven’t known you for that long, but… I know my heart, and I know that I’ve fallen in love with you completely. You… You are so wonderful. Your kind and thoughtful and brave and selfless and… I want to be with you. I want you to be with me… I love you, a-and… and I don’t care if you’re going to live forever without me.” The tears were starting to spill out now, rolling down her cheeks messily. “I love you, and I want you. More than anything.”

Every inch of Vincent froze.

_ Love? _

_ She… loves me? _

_ But… No. That doesn’t make sense. What does that even mean? _ _  
_

Her words circled around in his head, simultaneously forcing every other thought out while allowing in a whole cacophony of questions and concerns. Was this… how Lucrecia felt all of those years ago when he confessed to her? No. Surely this was different. He was more than just overwhelmed. Vincent was struggling to react in even the slightest.

How did he feel about what she said? How was he supposed to feel? How should he react? What sort of reaction was she expecting? Should he lie? Should he run away?

_ Do I love her? _

It was a can of worms Vincent never thought he would have to open ever again. The last time he had done it, it had irreversible consequences, ones he would live with for the rest of eternity. 

Where to begin?

_ Just think about her… Try, Vincent, _ he thought to himself.

Immediately, he knew that he had been enjoying his time here in Costa del Sol. By now, he had been here well over a month. Leya was right. It was a short amount of time… but it also felt like it had been much longer. Vincent hardly believed he had a different life before meeting Leya. A cold, depressing, lonely life. But he didn’t feel that way anymore.

She had reintroduced light back into his life. Vincent admitted that his friends in Avalanche had helped sow the seeds of change, but as of late, Leya had been the gardener tending to those seeds every single day. First, something inside him barely began to bud, a sapling growing out of his broken heart. She had tended to the weak little plant, given it water and nutrients and turned it towards the sunlight.

As he thought about it, it was more than just friendliness and optimism that had made something inside him grow. Leya had been loving him for quite some time, hadn’t she? Listening to him. Supporting him. Caring about him. Being interested in his past, his present, and his future. She thought of him often and did things to show her appreciation and affection. He felt dumb for not connecting the dots sooner. The proof was all laid out in front of her. Of course she loved him.

But… How did he feel about her? It was something that felt hard to define. As Vincent walked himself through his thought process, he realized that lately, Leya had been more than a friend, or at least, she was different compared to the other friends he had. Not only did she feel different, but, Vincent treated her in a unique way too. He worried about her and thought of her often. He found himself wanting to please her. He’d do anything to see her smile. He had even opened up to her, allowing her to learn of his abysmal past. And on top of that, he didn’t mind her touch: her hugs and hand holding and little signs of comfort.

Leya was unlike any connection he had ever had. The closest thing he could remotely think of were his early memories with Lucrecia, but even they paled in comparison.

Did… Did that mean…?

If he loved Lucrecia all of those years ago but those emotions felt weak compared to what he thought he was feeling now with Leya, then…

Vincent closed his eyes, the sounds of Leya’s crying and the ocean waves pulling him back into reality. He didn’t know for certain if this was the right thing to do, but, in that moment, he believed that she deserved his honesty.

“Leya… I… I think I love you too,” he confessed back, opening his eyes once more to look at her.

Her head lifted, their eyes meeting once more. He could see the vulnerability in her face, the hope, the anticipation, the longing. For once, he could read her perfectly. He could remember that feeling exactly despite it being 40 years since he had experienced it.

“I… I don’t know how else to react,” he added. ”I don’t know what you want me to say or do, but… I want to be here… with you.”

He watched as Leya’s eyes searched his face for the slightest hint of deceit. When she was seemingly relieved by what she saw staring back at her, she moved in closer to him. He sat still as she wrapped one of her arms around him, placing her hand gently on the nape of his neck. Her other hand moved to cup the side of his face tenderly. Her touch was apologetic, as if she was afraid he would push her away. 

Vincent brought his head down to meet hers, touching his forehead to hers. He couldn’t think of a time he had been this close to anyone else before. Leya’s breath was tickling his face and he could see the tears still falling out of her eyes. His body moved on its own, raising his hand up to rest on her face. His thumb sat on her cheek and he did his best to wipe away her tears. He never liked seeing her cry anyway.

“C-Can I...?” she whispered, her eyes staring into his. For the first time, he could truly see how unique they were. There were small sections of green and blue despite their overall gray color.

Vincent nodded, careful not to break away from her. He didn’t even know what she was asking, but he didn’t care. He’d do anything… anything for her.

Slowly, Leya closed the space in between them. Her face nestled perfectly against his as she brought her lips on top of his.

Vincent had never been kissed before in his life, so he didn’t know what to expect, but like most things involving Leya, it was soft and warm. It felt strange to be so close to her, and yet, at the same time, he could tell why so many people enjoyed kissing. He felt oddly comfortable against her. It was like they were the only people in town or better yet, the whole planet. There weren’t birds chirping or angels singing in the background like fiction might make some believe, but the moment felt… special, even without magic.

After a moment, Leya pulled back, separating their lips. He opened his eyes to see her (he hadn’t realized they were even closed), but she quickly buried her face into his shirt. Vincent heard more sobs beneath him. Had he done something wrong? Had he upset her?

He opened his mouth to speak, but she talked first.

“Tell me, Vincent. Tell me I’m dreaming,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest.

“You’re not,” he said, carefully using one of his hands to move her hair out of her face. He dared not touch her any more than that for fear of upsetting her. “Or… at least I know I’m not dreaming. My dreams are never this happy.”

Leya sniffled one last time before pulling back so she could see him once again.

“Then… Then you mean it? You… you…”

“Love you?” Vincent clarified.

“Yeah…”

He nodded. If this wasn’t love… then Vincent wasn’t sure what the hell love was. After all of that contemplation, he just knew that she made him the happiest he had ever been. That was a feeling he wanted to hold onto and fight for.

Leya chuckled a bit, finally using her hands to wipe her eyes. “Wow… I… I can’t believe it,” she admitted. “I mean, I wanted it, but I never thought it would happen. Not really.”

“I’m here,” he responded. “And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

As if feeling the waterworks coming back, Leya ducked her head back into his shirt. He didn’t mind though. He wanted to be there for her.

“Let’s go home,” Vincent said after a while. He waited for her first, allowing her to move at her own rate. He didn’t want to rush her or anything, but the sun had gone down by now and there wasn’t much reason to stay out any longer.

He felt her nod her head beneath him before slowly pulling away for the last time. She sat close to him for a moment, neither of them sure how they should move next, until finally she scooted back to her side of the blanket and reached for her sandals. Vincent followed suit and slipped back on his socks and shoes, mildly disgusted by the sand clinging to his toes. He didn’t have another option though. There was no way he was going to walk back to her house barefoot.

When they both had their shoes on, they worked together to fold up their blankets and stow away their things. With everything squared away, they started their trek back into her neighborhood. Vincent noticed that Leya was being a little distant at first, but soon enough, she moved in closer and shyly took his hand. When he snuck a peak at her, he saw that she was looking off into the distance, a smile on her face.

After a few short minutes, they were back at Leya’s house. When they were close enough, Leya let go of his hand and trotted over to where the garden hose was on the outer wall of the house. She turned on the water, slipped off her sandals, and rinsed her feet of any remaining sand — a precaution that would save her from a future mess when they stepped foot indoors. Vincent followed suit and slipped off his own shoes. When she was done, she handed the hose to him and skipped up to the front door to unlock it. He joined her momentarily, holding his shoes and soiled socks in his hand.

They stepped inside one after the other, both choosing to leave their shoes by the front door to worry about tomorrow. Things were peacefully quiet between them. Although there wasn’t much to say, they both felt content in knowing where they stood with one another.

Leya led the way up to the second floor, stopping in front of her bedroom door like they did most nights. Normally, she would simply say “Goodnight”, he’d say it back, and they would be done for the evening, but as Vincent lingered by the door with her, it was apparent that tonight was not like most nights.

“Um… Vincent?” she spoke up, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Hmm?”

“Can… Can I kiss you again?”

He felt his heart skip a beat. She wanted to kiss him again already? He didn’t know if that was normal.

“Yes,” he answered, his voice more timid than usual.

He watched as she carefully lifted herself up on the edge of her feet in order to close the distance between them. Vincent met her half way, ducking his head down slightly so it would be easier for her. Again, he wasn’t sure what to do so he let Leya take the lead. It was her request after all.

Their lips met once again, and despite it still feeling like a foreign sensation to Vincent, he found it to be a nice one nonetheless. Leya was so soft against him, her lips smooth and — he swore they tasted like vanilla. He figured it was because of her lip balm, but he didn’t mind. In fact, it was… nice. Kissing her felt nice. Being loved back felt nice.

She pulled back a little sooner than their first kiss. Vincent was able to see her reaction this time. Flushed cheeks. An enormous grin. Her eyes darted back and forth between him and something off to the side. Did he make her act this way? It was hard for him to believe he had any sort of effect on her. If anything, Vincent didn’t truly understand what she saw in him, but he was selfishly glad that she confessed anyway.

“Goodnight, Vincent,” Leya murmured. “And… thank you for, um... “ Her voice trailed off as she searched for the appropriate words but never found them.

“Thank you,” he said back to her, hoping that would be enough reassurance for now. “Goodnight, Leya.”

He watched as she slowly opened her bedroom door and slipped inside, keeping her eyes on him until the last possible moment before the door shut. Vincent remained out in the hallway for a moment, still stunned by the whole turn of events tonight.

From within Leya’s room, he heard a gentle thud followed by a bunch of satisfied squealing. Vincent couldn’t help but crack a smile.

This definitely wasn’t a dream, but it absolutely felt like one.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this chapter is a satisfying note to end things on (for now?) because I've decided to go on hiatus for a while. As much as I absolutely adore Vincent and Leya, I'm struggling to write these days. I don't know what to blame my burnout on, but let me just say, 2020 has been one hell of a year so far. I've been struggling with a lot of things lately and the motivation to write hasn't been with me for almost a month. I'd like to say that I'll come back and finish this story one day, but I cannot make any promises. Hopefully when another part of the FFVII Remake comes out, it will ignite my passion for this fandom and this ship once again.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this far. Every hit, comment, kudos, and bookmark has filled me with so much happiness! Honestly. I never expected to get much traction on my first little story, but the support I have received motivated me to get this far. 15 chapters is a FEAT! I'm so proud of myself for even making it this far and all of YOU made it possible.
> 
> If you'd like, please check out my social media accounts! I've posted a TON of art of Vincent and Leya on there, all of it super fluffy and adorable, of course. My Twitter handle is @katiekat_artist and my Instagram handle is @katiekatartist. My DMs are open on both sites if you'd like to reach out, say hi, or talk about FFVII. I promise I'm chill and friendly.
> 
> Thanks again for reading. Until next time??


End file.
